Chronicles: Otherworld
by JFalcon
Summary: Betrayal lurks around every corner in Menzoberranzan. As one house plots for power one daughter plots against her mother to take the mantle of Matron. But where would that leave her siblings? Sequel to The Noble Mercenary.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Forgotten Realms. The characters in this story however are my own creations, unless otherwise noted. These are fictional persons and any and all similarity to real life personalities living or dead, unless specifically noted otherwise by me, is coincidental and completely unintentional.

**Note: **This is the sequel to The Noble Mercenary, it takes place very shortly before Mithral Hall. If you enjoy the story remember to review.

**Prologue**

In the darkest of darkness beneath the surface of Faerun, in the place known as the "Underdark" lies the city Menzoberranzan; Greatest city of the drow.

Far different from their surface dwelling cousins, drow elves are vicious and cruel. They are rightly feared as one of the greatest dangers within the under dark, the subterranean realm where dangers come in no short supply. Few who stumble upon a drow patrol survive to tell the tale.

Ambition is as normal to any drow as breathing is to any human, status is everything, murder and assassination are the key methods of raising one's rank. Those without ambition rarely survive, but those who meet their goal struggle to hold their prize, even as they begin to look for their next.

In Menzoberranzan noble houses compete against one another for rank, fortune, and status. When one house raids another no member of the defending family may be left alive. The attack must be carried out and completed in a single night. If even one of the defenders survives she has the right of accusation and the ruling council of the city will be obligated to rise up in force and destroy the attackers.

This is only a facade of justice however, for if the defenders are wiped out, the council simply ignores the event. No one would investigate the murder of an entire family, not even their closest allies.

Rather the attackers would be applauded silently for an attack well carried out and left to begin, or continue plotting, as all houses do, against their next target. This is the way of the drow nobility.

In the eyes of their dark deity, Lolth the Spider Queen, only the eight highest ranked houses have the right to be on the ruling council of Menzoberranzan, her greatest city. It is the ambition of every house to become one of these eight, to place their Matron Mother on the ruling council of Menzoberranzan, and it was with such ambition that house G'kar, the twenty first house waged its secret war on Sh'tok, the nineteenth.

The Sh'tok family had fallen from Lolth's favor. As such the capricious Spider Queen's blessings, and more importantly her protection had left them. Those houses still favored by the Lady of Chaos would fall upon Sh'tok until the house had been utterly destroyed. Their only hope was to regain the Spider Queen's favor before an attack could occur, and thus be spared a most painful end.

The G'kar forces knew the risks of the attack, once it was launched there was no turning back, failure meant death for the entire household for if even one princess of Sh'tok survived to learn the identity of her attackers the harsh laws of Menzoberranzan would be carried out. Victory could only be achieved by the complete destruction of the Sh'tok family.

--

Weapons Master K'ral thought that all seemed quiet in the Sh'tok compound . And there was no reason why the compound should not _seem_ quiet. From the small and mysterious _Donigarten _lake that surrounded the isle of Rothe (which few drow had ever managed to survive the swim across) to the great time piece Narbondel, a towering pillar of stone that told of the passing of day or night with the help of the city's Archmage, it seemed every dark elf in Menzoberranzan had simply "gone to sleep", The Mantle, the area along the western wall of the cavern where the eldest and most prestigious houses stood, seemed devoid of all life . . . except for two hundred drow warriors, and their three hundred battle ready slaves.

A small force by comparison to Sh'tok, which boasted over a hundred more warriors, and twice the number of battle slaves. An army that was likely very ready to protect its home from the smaller invaders.

Their forces most certainly outnumbered patron Nagru G'kar's first wave, which consisted of one hundred foot soldiers and three times that number in fighting slaves. Orcs, goblins, bugbears, kobolds . . . all lesser races, and nothing more than fodder.

The foot soldiers would likely be wiped out without the support of the second wave, led by K'ral. Nothing would stand in the way of K'ral's one hundred mounted veterans, K'ral's riders would cut through the Sh'tok forces with all the ease of a dagger piercing a silk vest.

Nagru was the patron of house G'kar, Matron Talia's husband for appearance sake. It granted him the surname and the rights and privileges that few common males enjoyed. However in all other ways such a marriage was little more than formality. Nagru's position within the house was near the bottom rung, he was nothing more than a figurehead lending the matron his body according to her desire.

G'kars princesses, those Nagru had sired as well as those he had not, all stood above him, Borrakul, the house wizard held more influence with is mother than her husband. Even as weapon master, K'ral, who was not an immediate member of the G'kar family, had not even served them as long as Nagru had, was higher on the power ladder than the house patron.

If Nagru should fall, G'kar would suffer no great loss by K'ral's estimation. Furthermore K'ral would have no need to share the glory of this battle with Matron Talia's lowly husband, might even be selected as Talia's new patron, granting _him_ the honors of nobility.

He saw the signal to attack, and held his riders back.

Just long enough, he decided, to eliminate a minor rival. Ambition after all, was as normal to a drow as breathing


	2. Rilian

**Chapter One**

**Into The Fray**

Rilian G'kar was the second living son of Talia G'kar. He was a prince of house G'kar and incidentally the only member of the household that the G'kar Patron Nagru _could_ claim proper superiority over.

Knowing that, he understood why he marched with the first wave led by his father, assuming that Nagru _was_ indeed his father. He was not Talia's favorite son. Indeed it sometimes seemed as if the Matron cared so little for him that she had never even bothered to learn his name.

Still why should he die with the fodder?

Standing besides him was Ascord, his lifelong comrade. From the days of their youth, sparing in weapon master K'ral's practice arena they had been a team. Together they were unstoppable, and this was all Rilian had by way of reassurance.

He and Ascord were very different in appearance, Ascord was an impressive, even fearsome physical specimen. Standing a only third of a foot below six he was tall for a drow, especially a male. His arms and legs thick with muscle, were it not for his ebony skin and braided white hair he might have looked more like a man than a dark elf.

Rilian was lithe and stood four inches shorter than Ascord at a height more appropriate to a male drow. While he was not without muscle Ascord's were far more impressive, the females all agreed. Rilian's hair was long, and though it was not braided like Ascord's it was usually well kept. Even after one of the mock battles at the academy his hair remained mysteriously well behaved.

Ascord always seemed confident in himself, and his confidence gave Rilian confidence. In the academy Rilian and Ascord had been rivals but also friends. They often fight back to back during the yearly exams. Ascord, who favored a two bladed sword, was a fighter who prized strength and the ability to cleave a goblin's head in two above all else. He was not terribly fast, but neither was he slow, and he could take a hit in a stoic manner and continue fighting without difficulty.

Rilian on the other hand favored the two weapon fighting style, often taking to the battle with a sword and a dagger, though he preferred a pair of short swords, something light and fast. He treasured speed over strength, and preferred to avoid getting hit, rather than trusting in heavy, cumbersome armors. Like the uncomfortable one he was currently wearing. Rilian was faster than Ascord, faster than any member of their class back at Melee-Magthere. He had even been faster than many of the instructors, though of course far less experienced and skilled.

Still, despite their differences, the two were a perfect team. Rilian was fast where Ascord was slow, Ascord was strong where Rilian was weak. Working together no drow, no five drow could defeat them. So long as they stayed together they would survive, or so Ascord had assured him.

And yet Rilian had a sense of impending doom.

Nagru coughed into his hand nervously, and raised his sword to signal the advance.

On that signal most of the one hundred G'kar warriors called upon the initiate powers of their race to summon globes of darkness on the walls and battlements of house Sh'tok. Meant to disable, but far more likely only limiting the effectiveness of the battle hardened archers on the walls.

The wizards of the G'kar household went to work, headed by Rilian's older brother Borrakul, casting their destructive spells meant to make those walls crumble. Rilian watched the slaves begin their suicidal advance. It was likely that none of them would survive, they were just trap fodder.

Goblins, orcs, kobolds, a few duergar and a single minotaur. Three hundred of theses lesser beings charged.

Glyphs exploded beneath them and after the instant it took the wall defenders to understand that they were under attack, poisoned bolts rained down on them from the globes of darkness. Despite lack of aim the number of targets made sure a portion of the bolts struck, the slaves toppled one after another. However that was their purpose. Every dead slave was one explosive glyph or bolt that the drow warriors had evaded.

Rilian followed along with the marching column, Nagru gave a signal for an orderly advance, and quickly moved to the rear of the forces. The G'kar soldiers moved along the path of twisted burned bodies. Rilian's heart began to pound in his chest faster than he'd ever heard it before.

To fight at the academy, against other students in a mock battle was one thing. To face veteran defenders now in real combat to the death was another matter completely.

The gates were smashed by a flash of magical lightning, Borrakul's specialty. The wall was already damaged in places, the eager warriors charged before Nagru even gave the command, their lust for battle overpowering their discipline.

Rilian kept pace with Ascord, and gripped the hilt of his enchanted sword tightly as they both leapt over the debris of the gate. Rilian heard a shriek and nimbly avoided a spear thrust. Without giving it any though he swept towards his opponent with his sword, and took the head off of the enemy slave.

A slave?

Sh'tok had armed their slaves and placed them at the gates. Any drow fighter knew that slaves, like the now mostly slain G'kar living shield, were easy game. Even Borrakul, completely incompetent with a sword, could likely fell a goblin or two without having to rely on magic.

The young fighter lunged into the fray, cutting down an orc with a single swipe. Ascord was by his side, his two-bladed sword carving through the lesser races, the brilliant weapon made Rilian very glad that he was not a goblin, for Ascord's blades spelled indiscriminate doom for the slaves of G'kar as well as Sh'tok.

The slaves had no chance, before the spheres of darkness on the walls dissipated the Sh'tok slaves were nearly annihilated.

Too late did the young prince realize the obvious trap, the Sh'tok slaves had lured the G'kar soldiers into the courtyard, now they were surrounded by the real warriors. Looking to his patron for some sort of instruction the drow youth noted that Nagru had made a characteristic move from the rear to the center of the force as the enemy army charged in on the attackers from all sides.

Rilian, still holding the hilt of his sword tightly in one hand, drew his dagger in the other. The first opponent lunged forward recklessly. Rilian deflected her attack with his sword, her own thin rapier withdrew quickly and came in for another strike aimed directly for Rilian's heart.

The young dark elf didn't bother to waste a blade deflecting the blow, instead he relied on his agility and dodged her attack. His sword rose, ready to take it's first worthwhile victim.

But Ascord struck first, thrusting his blade out and piercing the Sh'tok warriors' chain amor just above her heart.

And in that second the female soldier was dead. It had been perhaps two seconds of fast combat but for Rilian it had lasted much longer. Seeing a life ended so suddenly had an odd effect on the young drow. For an instant he wondered who she'd been, if she had fought eagerly for the glory of her house, or if she had acted under the threatening orders of her commanding officers knowing she was doomed and praying to be taken captive.

Those thoughts were dismissed when another opponent came rushing towards Ascord. Rilian lunged to his friend's aid, letting his sword lead, his more experienced opponent turned and deflected the attack with his round buckler. Rilian thrust out with his dagger now, aiming for his enemy's neck, but that attack was deflected by a curved scimitar.

Ascord took his turn then, rushing forward.

The Sh'tok warrior attempted to keep him at bay by raising his shield arm only to have the ferocious young drow cut the limb away with a single, powerful swipe.

The two-bladed sword spun, changing the direction of the second blade as it arced in to remove the Sh'tok fighter's head from his shoulders. "I have two," Ascord said with a sneer, "Rilian G'kar claims nothing!"

Rilian felt his face flush with angry heat, and turned towards another enemy, "We shall see about that!" He cried.

* * *

K'ral watched the battle unfold. Obviously Sh'tok had expected the attack. And why not? A fall from the favor of Lloth was usually fatal. The Sh'tok household, like any other, obviously sought to put off their impending doom for as long as possible.

However, worship aside he was somewhat concerned. He had not expected the infantry to fall so quickly. If he did not attack now the G'kar soldiers might well panic and defect, lending Sh'tok a far greater advantage than K'ral had planned. Worse, the spell casters were now holding their fire for whatever mad reason Borrakul had cooked up. Drow to drow the fighters would be on even footing with their enemies without the support of the wizards, the problem being that they were outnumbered three to one.

The weapons master cursed under his breath, and gave the signal to attack, each of his five lieutenants passed it down to their score of riders and the G'kar cavalry needed no second bidding. The riders charged, their drive fueled not by the desire to rescue their comrades, but to satisfy their own blood lust and slake their thirst for battle.

K'ral rode at the front, eager himself to join in the fun. His great lizard mount running along at surprising speed and easily scaling the damaged walls of the Sh'tok compound, K'ral struck out with his halberd, taking the head off of an enemy crossbowman as his mount rushed over the top.

* * *

Borrakul watched the lizards charge, and smiled. He gave the order in the silent hand code of the drow to continue pummeling the Sh'tok compound with their spells.

As his comrades hurled magical bolts of lightning, or arrows of acid at the crumbling wall, Borrakul took aim and hurled a blazing ball of fire at one of the Sh'tok battlements. The ball of flame did little actual damage to the giant stalagmite that the battlement had been carved into, but it did a splendid job of eliminating the archers firing down from the supposed safety of their fortress.

Borrakul knew that K'ral had deliberately stalled the advance of his wave, and he respected it in a way. Though his father and younger brother had been directly at risk, Borrakul cared nothing for either one of them, and he himself had been considering the best way to gain the most praise from this battle.

However even the eccentric wizard knew that in this battle victory meant far more than personal praise. Now that the battle was pitched there was no turning back. Victory was survival, defeat was death.

It was as simple as that.

* * *

Rilian was all but surrounded by enemies, he'd been separated from Ascord a few moments ago, he was now fighting for his life with only two supporters; Phelos, one of the house veterans and rival to weapons master K'ral if ever there was one, and a common soldier whose face Rilian recognized, but his name had never been important enough to learn.

Phelos was tall-as tall as Ascord-beautiful, and strong as most females were. Unlike most females she was a fighter through and through, she swung her magically sharpened Greatsword without the slightest hint of strain. Rilian made sure to keep well out of her range. She boasted that when she fought she had never heard her allies complain.

Rilian did not doubt that was only because the ones she hit could not complain. Or talk at all unless a cleric got involved. Indeed, Phelos' blade had come dangerously close to him twice already.

A Sh'tok fighter with a pair of long swords lunged for Rilian. He ducked to avoid the first two swipes from his enemy's blades. He came up to find the fighter's head missing, and Phelos grinning wickedly.

"I did not realize you were instructed to act as my body guard." Rilian said as he turned to another opponent.

"Your rescue was completely accidental," Phelos assured him, "I did not see you down there, you males are so small and insignificant. So easily forgotten!" She let out a hearty laugh, and seemed to be at perfect ease in the fray.

But their comrade emitted a gurgled scream, Rilian leapt back, and saw Phelos cutting down another Sh'tok fighter, whose sword was still shoved into the G'kar fighter's chest.

Rilian looked around, most of the fighters left were Sh'tok, for every G'kar soldier down two took his place, and unfortunately they fought for Sh'tok.

A pair of Sh'tok warriors came at Rilian now, one wielding a sword, the other a fine scimitar. The young drow fought defensively with his sword and dagger, but the more experienced pair pushed him back. Phelos didn't seem to be faring any better against her two new opponents, or perhaps helping him now that he needed it wasn't in her personal interest.

The two Sh'tok warriors were expert fighters, Rilian leapt back a step, then lashed out with his sword, knocking the blade out of one fighter's hand. But his comrade came in on Rilian before he could finish the job and claim his first worthy kill. The Sh'tok warrior smirked at him as Rilian's fine sword crossed with her scimitar.

Rilian shot her his own cocky grin, and then put every ounce of his own strength into keeping the sharp edge of her scimitar from his face. Perhaps she believed she would be victorious because her gender gave her the advantage in height and strength. But Ascord appeared behind her, and cut her in half at the waist with the curved part of his two bladed sword, similar to a scimitar. With the straight portion, more like a longsword, Ascord stabbed the male who had just recovered his sword and stood up to continue the fight.

Now the only thing he'd fight for would be breath as he grabbed futilely at the wound in his chest.

"You two are too far out, if this is your idea of fun you might enjoy trying to stare down a basilisk!" Ascord scolded Rilian far more than Phelos, who was obviously doing just fine. Rilian had yet to claim a single head other than those of the slaves. Lesser beings whose lives meant little and whose deaths meant less.

"This is not over." Phelos reminded them, swinging her sword at a pair of drow, one deflected the attack, the other was nearly cut in half.

"Definitely not." Ascord agreed, stabbing the remaining opponent with the straight end of his two-bladed sword.

"Where is Nagru?" Rilian demanded, the Patron should be fighting on the front with them. He should be encouraging what remained of the G'kar foot soldiers, and leading by example.

"He is at the center of our troops cowering. It is where you should be." Ascord snickered.

Rilian ignored the insult, and he ignored Ascord as the taller youth mouthed the word "six." The young prince simply turned towards his next opponent and lunged, hoping to at least claim one.

Rilian struck out with his sword and the Sh'tok warrior deflected it with his own. Rilian's dagger came in then and found the enemy drow's sword arm, slicing the wrist open and causing his opponent to drop the blade. Rilian raised his sword for the finishing blow when his opponent, seeing his impending doom fell to his knees and crossed his arms over his chest in surrender.

Rilian considered accepting it. But the enemy soldier had other plans and his uninjured left hand lashed out light lightning. Rilian felt something bite into his shoulder as painfully as any lash from his mother's whip. He fell back and looked at the throwing dagger protruding from his shoulder, and somehow felt more embarrassment than pain.

Rage burned in the young elf's eyes, he had to admit that his enemy's actions were correct, and his own hesitation had been foolish. He stood up and tore the dagger from his arm and hurled it at his opponent, the blade sunk into the chest of the already decapitated Sh'tok soldier, Rilian turned around to see Phelos already preparing for another attack, Ascord snickered until the tall female turned to him and scoffed, "Eight."

Rilian felt even more ashamed then. Ascord, the warrior that he had always considered his equal had slain six, and Phelos had taken an astounding eight opponents. Rilian himself had taken no victims, had even been injured for falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Fires burned in his red eyes, but as he searched for a new opponent he could find none, for the G'kar house riders descended. Their mounts easily scaling the walls and debris of the shattered sections of the Sh'tok defense. They crushed any soldier not from their household, and in an instant the Sh'tok soldiers knew they could not defeat the riders. For even if they managed to fell a rider, his giant lizard mount continued to fight on.

They began to retreat into their stalagmite tower, where the troublesome lizards could not follow.

"This part is over." Phelos said, shaking her head. "There is more to do inside their palace," She continued, "your chance to catch up if you can continue. Can you continue?" She asked Rilian.

"It would be safer if you remained with Nagru. I doubt _he_ will find danger." Ascord sneered.

Rilian took his friend's sneer in stride, and gave him a smirk in return, "I will go with you, my _Khal'abbil. _Your duties require your presence inside, I will accompany you for your own protection. Lest you forget that an ego cannot watch your back as well as I can."

"Or stop an enemy blade as efficiently as you can." Ascord laughed and slapped him _hard_ on his injured shoulder ."Come on then, for my protection."


	3. The Children

**Chapter One**

**Part II**

Ovak Sh'tok paced angrily back and forth. Guard duty . . . the shame of it.

While the real battle raged outside he was stuck inside guarding the hiding place of his younger sisters and the rest of the household's youngsters. He and his seven companions, each one wondering what sin they could have committed to be banished to defense while the real fun went on outside.

As signs of the defeat outside began to reach Ovak, he felt an overwhelming disdain, surely if he'd been outside he could have kept the enemy at bay. But no . . . his mother had ordered him to remain inside, and why? Surely not to keep him safe.

"Draw blades." Ovak grunted to his companions as he heard the sounds of combat filling the halls near them. "You," he gestured to one of his fellow guards, "investigate."

The fighter snuck off down the corridor, and returned shortly after. "Our warriors are being pushed back, enemies are filling the halls." He reported calmly.

Ovak scowled, "Stand your ground, be ready!"

The seven other guards took defensive positions, some of them armed themselves with crossbows. The sounds of battle grew louder, the ring of adamantine blades coming closer, the cries of the fallen grew nearer.

And then they were within sight. A few Sh'tok soldiers fighting for their very lives against more than a dozen invaders.

Ovak's companions awaited no signal, they simply let loose their bolts, and drew their melee weapons. Ovak gripped the hilt of his bastard sword with both hands and charged forward, shouting a battle cry to the Spider Queen as he threw himself into the fray.

* * *

Rilian followed Ascord down the corridor, they had long since lost sight of Phelos and were left to simply follow the flow of G'kar soldiers.

They came upon a battle, a handful of Sh'tok guards fighting off twice their number in G'kar soldiers. Rilian wondered if perhaps they should venture down another hall.

But Ascord advanced fearlessly as if he had been born for this moment. Rilian felt a bit of admiration at the other youth's bravery, but told himself that bravery and stupidity were close companions, often mistaken for one another.

Which drove Ascord, he wondered.

Against his better judgment he followed Ascord in, holding his long sword with both hands, they ran together and joined the battle.

Ascord tore into a Sh'tok guard who had just felled a G'kar soldier. The guard had not even had time to pull his short spear from his enemy's chest when Ascord arrived. The massive warrior easily removed the guard's head with the keen curved end of his two bladed sword.

Rilian came upon a fighter wielding two short swords. The older warrior didn't hesitate and launched into an unfamiliar and exceptionally aggressive attack routine. Rilian managed to parry every thrust but he found no opportunity to go on the offensive. It was a shame that this warrior had to die, Rilian, who himself was quite skilled with two shorter blades, would have liked to learn this routine.

The young fighter glared at his opponent. This warrior was skilled, there was no point denying that. But only one of them could be the victor, and Rilian was not willing to accept failure.

Failure was death after all, unless Lolth felt like surprising a person.

Remembering a technique his academy instructor had taught him-the hard way-he grasped his sword with one hand and knocked aside an incoming blade. In a flash he drew his dagger and managed to deflect the other blade.

Then he kicked his opponent in the groin.

He felt a surge of elation when the move worked on the more experienced soldier. He lunged for his opponent, only to have his blades blocked by a larger, thicker blade wielded two-handed by a strong looking fighter almost as massive as Tirian.

Rilian leapt back a pace. A G'kar soldier came up to support him but the new enemy swung the bastard sword and sent the soldier flying into the far wall. Rilian wondered briefly where Ascord was, but chided himself. _I must do this_ he thought, _I must not rely on Ascord, I too am a warrior._

The young warrior lunged for his larger opponent, the veteran fighter blocked the attack with a round buckler, he raised his sword and brought it down for a killing blow!

Rilian was far too quick to be struck by it, he threw himself to the side, and ducked low to sweep this new opponent's feet out from under him. However his opponent sidestepped and spat a curse when Rilian rolled out of the way when the stronger warrior's sword came down on him.

Rilian got to his feet quickly, he noted that the drow with two short swords had gone on to fight another opponent, leaving him and this other locked in a duel.

A duel of nobility, Rilian noticed the household amulet around the neck of the Sh'tok prince. He tightened his grip on his sword and dagger, and took a step back.

His opponent took a step forward.

Rilian's instincts told him to run, to flee and save himself. He was faster than this Sh'tok prince, he could escape, he couldn't just die here. But in his mind he knew the penalties his mother would inflict upon him for cowardice would make death seem like a reward! Besides, what if this one moment, this one battle was what decided the success or failure of the entire campaign?

He couldn't just run away.

The Sh'tok prince dispatched a G'kar soldier as if she had been a rag doll, tossing her aside with his sword. Rilian took that chance to charge sword first at his opponent, against his better instincts. He slashed the Sh'tok across the belly, and ducked to avoid a counter attack.

He agilely avoided the sword, and it instead burred itself in the stomach of an already dead drow. But the Sh'tok prince's arm flung out from the hilt, balled into a fist the blow might have knocked Rilian out of his senses or worse if he hadn't dodged that as well.

Rilian came at the Sh'tok noble. He swung his sword with one hand, narrowly missing, then thrust forward with his dagger.

The strike would have been true, with his sword buried in an enemy soldier and his shield busy deflecting Rilian's sword, the dagger might have struck right into his opponent's stomach.

But surges of pain tore through Rilian's shoulder as he thrust forward. Crying out in surprise and pain the young warrior not only missed his target, he also dropped the dagger and fell to his knees long enough for his enemy to rip his bastard sword free of the corpse.

The Sh'tok fighter lunged for Rilian. The younger warrior rolled to the side in time to avoid being skewered by the heavy sword, but not quickly enough to avoid injury. Rilian felt his enemy's blade rip through his chain armor, and cut into his right side.

At that same time, holding his sword with both hands now he lashed out at the charging enemy's leg, only managing to leave a gash across the Sh'tok warrior's calf, rather than removing the entire leg as he had meant to.

Even as Ovak Sh'tok stumbled to his knees, Rilian G'kar rose to his feet. He could not ignore the pain in his side, but he would put an end to his enemy while he had the chance. Deftly he spun, raising his sword, seeing Ovak's exposed neck, finally he brought it down.

After a few frozen minutes, or far more likely mere seconds that felt to Rilian like minutes, the body of the Sh'tok warrior fell to the ground, Ovak's head had already rolled away.

"One." Rilian whispered to himself, feeling a bit disappointed. It was likely too late in the game to catch up to, let alone surpass Ascord.

The young prince looked around and saw that no enemies remained, one of the Sh'tok guards had decided to flee down the hall. The rest were dead with many G'kar soldiers as company.

As Rilian struggled to keep his breath, leaning against a wall for support, Ascord came over to him, the other youth was cut in a few places, but his wounds were minor. "Shall we continue?"

Rilian scoffed at the very idea of pausing, but Phelos appeared just then and shook her head. "You have had enough for now, rest for a moment."

Rilian nodded, though feigning a look of indignation in truth he was quite grateful.

The tall female seemed relatively unscratched, she inspected the dead bodies and grinned when she found the amulet of the Sh'tok noble. "Well it seems we have taken care of one of them at least." She tossed the amulet to Rilian, who caught it easily and glanced at the design of a mace with eight spidery legs. "A souvenir."

Rilian shook his head. He felt terrible, his side ached, his shoulder throbbed, but he stood strong as he could, determined not to show weakness, especially not in front of Ascord.

"We will continue." Phelos said at last, gesturing to herself and Ascord, "You remain here. There is no shame in knowing your limitations."

Rilian nodded and continued to lean against the wall, he looked at the amulet in his hand, the symbol of house Sh'tok. He wouldn't keep it of course, had no use for it. With luck and the Spider Queen's blessings tomorrow this entire compound would be nothing more than a nameless pile of rubble, and the family that had resided here would cease to exist, to even mention their names would be in defiance of the game that drow nobility played.

Rilian stood alone with his thoughts for some time before he was finally and rudely interrupted.

"Move!" A commanding female voice barked, Rilian snapped out of his stupor and moved aside. Despite his surname, being treated like an inferior by one of the clerics in the service of his family was nothing out of the ordinary. In Menzoberranzan females ruled the males, and the clergy-which was exclusively female-ruled everything.

The cleric was accompanied by five guards, all of whom seemed unscratched. Likely not a single one of them had seen combat. The female glared at Rilian up and down, then cast a spell that made him feel mildly better.

Then as if he hadn't quite moved far enough away, shesignaled for her companions to shove him further back.

She went to work on the area of the wall little more than ten feet from where Rilian had been standing, which begged the question of why he had been so rudely shoved aside. She cast a few simple spells and stood back.

Then, in the intricate hand code of the drow, gave an order to her troops. _Get to work._

One of them kicked the wall, and it caved right in, a secret door revealed. Immediately wails of protest and whimpers were heard from inside the hidden room. The first guard went in and the other four seemed to climb over one another in an attempt to be the second.

Then came wails and screams, Rilian looked at the scene in utter confusion.

A small child ran from between the legs of one of the soldiers, past Rilian G'kar, and down the hallway screeching. The Cleric gave Rilian a cold glare and shouted, "Stop her!"

Rilian had no idea what the cleric might possibly want with so young a child, but he did not want to be told twice. He bolted after the drow child and caught up to her in an instant. He snatched the child and covered her mouth. "_Quiet_!" He hissed, "We do not wish to harm you, be calm."

But in no time at all his words were proven false. As he turned around to return the child to the cleric, a bolt from a hand crossbow found itself at home in the child's throat.

The young prince dropped the girl's body in surprise. "You tried to kill me!" Was the first thing that came to mind. Unafraid of or perhaps simply not properly considering the consequences his hand flew to the hilt of his sword. He drew it before the child's body even hit the ground.

The cleric's glare was replaced by a look of indignation, "You were in no danger, I never miss!"

"Your target was the . . ." Rilian trailed off as her five guards emerged from the room, their swords thoroughly coated in blood.

"The child of course." The cleric scoffed.

Rilian felt strangely ill. "It was a fine shot." He offered to mask his true feelings. Feelings he himself, did not quite understand.

"As I said, I never miss." The cleric said, her chest swelling with pride.

Rilian nodded and the group went on their way. The young prince stood as still as a statue.

He did not need to look inside to know what he would see in that hidden room. Still something, perhaps denial, caused him to glance anyway.

He nearly wretched at the sight. The children of house Sh'tok, all slain. They were mostly commoners, with only a few wearing robes of nobility. One and all had been murdered in cold blood. Rilian shuddered, he knew it was necessary for the success of the raid that all members of Sh'tok's family be killed. He knew it was a cold hard fact of life in Menzoberranzan: children died.

The entire Sh'tok family had to be dealt with, and the commoners who would not surrender and submit to G'kar would be killed . . . but the scene before him now was vile. "They . . . killed them all." He whispered.

But why? They didn't need to. Certainly the nobility had to die but the commoners were . . . innocent. They might have served house G'kar with distinction one day.

Emotions surged within the young drow, a part of him wanted to race after the cleric and slaughter her and her guards the same way they had slaughtered these children. Test them against an armed opponent, to watch them squirm and suffer, to hunt down any who dared to flee. His heart yearned to punish them for carrying their jobs too far.

But his mind knew better. To strike a female without orders from another female was never allowed, it was punishable by death. Worse, to kill a member of Lolth's clergy-without orders from a higher ranking member-was a damnable offense. Furthermore they outnumbered him six to one, they were uninjured, and his performance thus far had him doubting the sword skills he'd been so proud of after the academy.

In the end Rilian shook his head, threw the Sh'tok amulet into the cursed room and turned away. In the morning house Sh'tok would not exist, the entire affair meant nothing to him, it was just another of many nights he would forever refuse to recall. The deaths of a few children were necessary for the continued success of House G'kar.

Besides, it wasn't as if Rilian himself had murdered this bunch. He was blameless . . .


	4. Aftermath

**Chapter Two**

**House G'kar**

Qillathe G'kar, the eldest living daughter of Matron Talia G'kar watched the returning forces from a balcony. The battle had been trying, for the warriors as well as the priestesses who had stayed behind. They had had their own ways of being present and useful at the battle.

Qillathe noted the number of returning slaves was merely equal to the number of returning fighters. Many of the lizards brought back had no riders, but new ones could be trained without cost. Purchasing new slaves was a costly business and Qillathe was very interested in whatever explanation there might be for the disappointing number of slaves returning to them.

She strolled into the main chambers of the G'kar chapel, where her mother and sister now awaited the return of their captains, Nagru, K'ral and Borrakul, and their report.

Borrakul swooped in first, and unannounced, nearly tripping over his long robes. He bowed low to his Matron Mother, and quickly congratulated her. "I never would have thought an attack on Sh'tok could succeed as thoroughly or as quickly as it did. We are fortunate to have such wisdom leading us."

"Of course you never thought it could succeed." Matron Talia snorted. "But you are a male, your opinion does not matter and so you are forgiven . . . this time." Though she sounded serious in her threat, Qillathe knew that Borrakul was in little danger. He knew their mother's mind better than anyone; he knew what their mother considered to be going too far. He enjoyed dancing on the edge of the knife that was her temper, and had yet to get cut.

Oh how Qillathe wished he would die.

"You are too gracious, Matron Mother." He said with a wicked grin.

"Far too gracious." Qillathe agreed. If she were Matron Mother-and Lolth willing, she would be soon-she would have killed Borrakul some time ago simply for being so cocky.

The look on her sister Sivar's face suggested that she felt the same, the sisters made no secret of their hatred for their brother, or their dislike of one another for that matter.

Borrakul was a wizard of reasonable renown and power, and a secret advisor for Matron Talia. However, it was quite improper for the Matron Mother to take the advice of a male on important matters.

Qillathe could name eight individuals who would make better advisors, and far better house wizards. The fact that Borrakul still lived to hold both positions was an oddity.

The doors opened again, this time K'ral and Nagru entered. While Borrakul was tall (by the standards of males) and skinny, with his long stark white hair flowing over his shoulders, K'ral resembled a beardless duergar, or gray dwarf. K'ral was short and fat with thick-corded muscles on his arms and legs, his head shaved completely bald, he held a halberd over his shoulder.

Unlike his son Borrakul, Talia's current husband was short rather than tall. Nevertheless, he was equally skinny, his hair was shorter and he wore his longsword (a weapon enchanted by and stolen from the drow's surface cousins) at his hip. He had a vast assortment of daggers strapped to his chest, likely for intimidation; Qillathe doubted that Nagru actually knew how to use them.

The two newcomers bowed low to the matron mother. K'ral came up first-he was far more courageous than Nagru-and made his report. "Sh'tok was expecting the attack; the first wave must have made too much noise. All the same, we won the night."

"Of course they were prepared! To offend Lolth is to die, and fools will always try to stall the inevitable. You should have treaded more carefully." Talia said, waving the words away like a foul odor.

"Our reinforcements were delayed." Nagru hissed at K'ral while keeping his tone civil enough not to offend Matron Talia.

Qillathe did not doubt that K'ral would have intentionally put off reinforcing Nagru, she could easily guess why.

The one thing that motivated the drow. The one thing aside from devotion to their dark goddess, Lolth, which kept many alive, was ambition. Surely even Borrakul had to envy the position of Archmage, the position now held by Gromph Baenre of the first house of Menzoberranzan. Qillathe had taken little time to get to know her youngest brother, Rilian, but surely he too, fresh from his tenure at the academy of fighters longed to return one day as an instructor. Or to oust K'ral from his position as weapon master.

Qillathe most certainly longed for the day she would become the Matron Mother of House G'kar, and she had to keep her eyes on Sivar, who was not far from the position of High Priestess. Sivar would only need to eliminate Qillathe to become first born. Their 'sister' Tak'Hera also deserved a close watch.

It did occur to her now to wonder where the little one was. As a member of the G'kar family, Qillathe thought it only proper that Tak'Hera be present for this report.

"Once our riders secured the courtyard Sh'tok crumbled. Many of their warriors joined our ranks, the battle ended sooner than I had expected." Nagru explained to Talia. Qillathe struggled to return her focus to the discussion. "Matron Sh'tok was slain by a fighter from the first wave."

"There, you see? K'ral arrived before your fighters were completely wiped out." Matron Talia cackled with glee. "The shame of her. Dying at some nameless commoner's hands!"

Qillathe did not share her mother's joy over the death of her rival. Of course she was glad for the death of Matron Sh'tok, but she had once been at a fighter's mercy. When Lolth's favor failed a priestess there was simply no defense against a warrior's brute strength. Qillathe had been lucky, but it was not an encounter she'd forget, her own survival was a testament to the capricious nature of their goddess.

Nevertheless, she hated being reminded of her moment of weakness.

"What of her spawn?" Sivar asked. "Are they all accounted for?"

"Yes." K'ral said simply. "Though their secondboy's head required a bit of finding."

"And how did our own secondboy fare?" Talia asked, though her tone suggested she did not really care.

"He still has _his_ head." Nagru said with an impassive shrug.

"I've spoken to one of my lieutenants, she informs me that his performance while less than we've come to expect from him was passable." K'ral said.

"Then let us not mention him again until the wretch exceeds our expectations." Sivar sighed.

"Come now, he is your younger brother." Talia chuckled.

"But hardly up to the task of replacing the elder." Sivar said in the sort of submissive yet sharp tone that only she would dare take up with matron Talia.

Qillathe shuddered at the mention of their lost brother, Sivar's elder and Qillathe's younger. The assassin who had served G'kar until his ambitions led him to parts unknown. He had been the fighter whose mercy she had found herself at when she tried to bar his escape those years ago. Only Lolth knew why she still lived. Their father and weapons master at the time had not been spared the assassin's betrayal.

"He should be here with us; this victory is his as well." Talia continued, and for a terrible instant Qillathe, caught up in her own thoughts, believed that her mother was referring to the assassin. However, she soon realized that the matron only meant Rilian.

"Indeed," Qillathe said, regaining her composure, "and what a victory it is! Praise Lolth!"

Everyone in the room echoed those words at varying degrees of enthusiasm, "Praise Lolth!"

* * *

"Do you feel better?" Phelos asked Rilian as they walked down the halls of the G'kar compound.

Rilian nodded. His body felt better thanks to a potion Ascord had found for him, and some more thorough treatment by a cleric. But he was not so sure about the rest of him.

"After a long and strenuous battle, there is nothing quite as relaxing as a nice, friendly sparring session." The tall female noted, though her tone suggested that her use of the word 'sparring' constituted to something far removed from the usual combat practice.

Rilian knew exactly what she meant and under normal circumstances would likely have agreed, but not tonight.

Though Phelos was beautiful, as many female drow were, that sort of thing was the last thing he felt like doing. He shook his head and said, "I believe I will rest instead."

"Perhaps later?" She offered.

Rilian nodded, "Perhaps."

Phelos nodded back, and turned to Ascord, "And what about you? Do you feel like getting some exercise?"

"Certainly." Ascord said, giving Rilian a look as if to question his sanity before following Phelos, who headed off in the opposite direction of the training arena.

Rilian G'kar continued down the hall until he reached a familiar door. He entered his personal chamber. It was a small place. One room that was likely no bigger than Qillathe's closet. Formerly the residence of the house assassin, or so Rilian had been told. It had come complete with a worn couch, a battered chest which now held what few cloths and equipment Rilian wasn't wearing, and the large but empty weapons display that took up the entire western wall. Rilian had never felt any need to add anything to the room--it was only a place to take rest, it didn't need to look pretty--though he would like someday to fill the weapons case.

The swords of more than a dozen of the assassin's worthy foes once rested there but K'ral had looted it long before the room became Rilian's. His own sword, with its magically sharpened blade was apparently one of the assassin's prizes.

What ever had happened to the assassin Rilian was not sure. Neither was Sivar. Qillathe had lashed him with her whip when he asked her, so he chose not to ask Borrakul who might transform him into something unpleasant.

He sat down on the bed, his limbs ached. He drew his sword and inspected it.

Not a nick, the blade was as strong as ever. Cleaned of blood it was beautiful to behold. Rilian had made up several stories about its former owners, imagining that such a fine weapon could have only come from the finest of weapons masters.

There was a soft coughing sound, the youth twisted his head and looked over his shoulder to behold a pair of beautiful violet eyes watching him intently.

He sighed. He must have been walking in a daze not to notice a stunningly beautiful young female comfortably reclined and waiting patiently on his bed. She had long, somewhat wavy ivory hair, unusual violet eyes, and smooth, perfect ebony skin.

Her unusual eyes identified her as Tak'Hera G'kar, allegedly the youngest daughter of the G'kar family. Technically she was of no relation, but to ever openly reveal that 'secret' could have a thousand and one different results depending on who Tak'Hera had been before becoming a G'kar.

It could even mean the destruction of house G'kar. Rilian might never understand why his mother had taken such a risk . . . though he was glad she had, for since their first meeting Rilian had had trouble imagining life without 'Tak' as he called her.

Tak had just seemed to appear one day, Rilian was not sure what had led to her adoption but they became close very quickly. She simply was not like other females. She was a pleasure to talk to, and if she considered herself Rilian's biological superior, she said nothing to remind him of the fact.

"What do you want, Tak?" Rilian asked, determined to remain weary, though just seeing her energized him.

"You _know _what I want." She said calmly.

Yes . . . he knew what she wanted. "When you become a priestess you will be able to witness any battle you wish, you will not need me to _describe_ it for you."

"I do not believe I shall ever become a priestess." Tak said simply.

Under normal circumstances, Tak'Hera would have already been old enough to begin her tenure at Arach-Tinilith, the clerical school of Lolth, where she would be molded into a no doubt powerful priestess. However, Talia had decided for some reason to lie about Tak'Hera's age and had held her back from the school for nearly a year now with no explanation.

Nevertheless, Rilian was secretly grateful for this. Having only recently completed his tenure in Melee-Magthere Tak'Hera would have been gone for Arach-Tinilith before he ever returned. They would not have seen each other again for a long time. Upon her return she would have become a priestess, programmed by the mistresses of Arach-Tinilith to be just like every other power hungry, spider kissing, foul tempered slave of Lolth.

The thought troubled him. Rilian was not exactly a devout worshiper of Lolth, though he followed her teachings closely enough to avoid being executed. Rilian feared that his calm friendship with Tak would change dramatically or end all together once she finally became a tool of the Spider Queen. When she gave up her soul in exchange for the power that Lolth granted her daughters.

The image of the G'kar cleric who had killed the child came to the top of Rilian's mind and he shuddered.

"So?" She pressed.

"So?" Rilian frowned.

"How was the attack?" Tak'Hera asked, her violet eyes flashing with curiosity.

"Grizzly." Rilian scoffed.

"I expected as much." She nodded knowingly. "You were injured?"

"Absolutely not!" Rilian cried, jumping up and turning to face her. "No blade ever came near me!"

Tak'Hera laughed, "_Uln'hyrr_. Your injuries were treated."

"What makes you think that?" Rilian scoffed.

"Your armor needs mending." Tak'Hera shrugged, running a delicate finger across his side, just where his wound had been.

"Well, it was not serious." Rilian shrugged.

"Then what is it that troubles you? Surely after such a battle your mood should be one of triumph. G'kar has reached a higher rank and you contributed to the victory by fighting alongside the noble warriors of our household!" Tak'Hera said, trying to sound excited, but she seemed as depressed as Rilian.

He began to wonder why. But Tak'Hera brightened before he could ask. She reached behind her back and revealed a stunning blade.

A dagger with a blade as black as the underdark itself, and wickedly curved and serrated. Its quality was remarkable, comparable to Rilian's own sword, which his hand unconsciously wandered to, unsure of Tak'Hera's intentions with the weapon.

In the underdark, in Menzoberranzan in particular, betrayal could come from any source. Even a trusted friend.

However, Tak'Hera smiled and handed Rilian the dagger hilt first. "An up and coming warrior should have better weapons. You will not inspire fear in your enemies if you wield that plain and ordinary dagger of yours." She said, "Take mine, something this fancy might make the wrong people jealous at the academy."

Rilian considered that. A higher-ranking princess might very well use any excuse to torment Tak'Hera during her academy tenure, it would be best not to wear or own anything that might draw unwanted attention. Nevertheless, Tak'Hera was the sort of beauty that other females seemed to find beautiful as well, and she was clever. Rilian expected her to be popular-perhaps in more ways than one-and to excel at her studies, he doubted she had anything to fear from the other students of Arach-Tinilith.

Moreover, a dagger might be a useful tool to use against those who _did not _quite see eye to eye with her.

But he would not refuse such a gift. He nodded and inspected the weapon. He suspected it was magical, he would have to ask Borrakul later.

"Still troubled?" Tak'Hera sighed.

Rilian frowned, he lay back in bed and closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw Tak'Hera had decided to lay down next to him. Thinking little of her close proximity, or the look in her eyes he was about to tell her about his encounter with the cleric and the murdered child, when the door to his room swung open, and Nagru strolled boldly in. "Matron Talia G'kar requests the presence of _all_ her children." He said with a lazy expression on his face. "Get out of that bed and into the chapel before I take my frustration at being made a messenger out on you. Or worse, inform the Matron of your . . . leisure activities."

"Our _what_?" Rilian demanded, leaping out of the bed in surprise, realizing what he and Tak'Hera lying together in the same bed must look like. Nagru made a face to show that he was impatient.

However, Tak'Hera made a show of getting out of the bed as slowly and lazily as possible, being female, she was above Nagru and Rilian in the house's hierarchy, even if she was in truth a houseless rouge yet to begin her training as a cleric of Lolth.

Gender dictated that Nagru's frustration at Tak's insolence be taken out on Rilian instead. The patron attempted to strike the younger warrior with his armored fist.

Rilian nimbly dodged and with every ounce of will power restrained himself from returning the blow. Nagru might be below Tak'Hera in the house's power hierarchy, but he was not below Rilian.

Not yet anyway.


	5. The Mercenary

**Chapter Two**

**Part II**

Matron Talia greeted her husband and her son with a cold expression, but brightened the instant her adopted daughter entered the room after them. Tak'Hera was not her child, not even the child of one of her cousins, but Talia did favor her above her own offspring for the ability the girl's blood possessed, the taint that would make the youth a secret weapon of house G'kar, vital in the coming century.

The girl was old enough now to begin her training as a cleric, and reach true heights of power, but Talia had hidden her away from the rest of the city, next year she would be sent to Arach-Tinilith, no sooner. The cause of this delay was that Talia needed Tak'Hera to understand her place, know where her loyalties should lie, and ultimately understand that she was in truth, nothing but a tool. A weapon for Talia-and Talia alone-to use as she saw fit.

Talia hesitated as well because a certain house whose members possessed the same taint-talent they called it-had a daughter in the academy not due to graduate for another year. Had Talia's weapon gone to Arach-Tinilith this year she may very well have met with and found a kindred spirit in the princess from that greater house, and could easily have found herself manipulated into betraying Talia and her household.

Better to keep Tak'Hera away from others like herself, Talia felt. Embrace her as a daughter and perhaps the girl would truly come to believe that she was and had always been a G'kar.

And so Talia greeted Tak'Hera with an uncharacteristic smile, which the much younger female returned as a sly grin. Talia turned to Qillathe, who seemed, as ever, confused by the friendliness between their household's matron, and a nameless rogue. Talia sighed inwardly. Qillathe was wise, there was no doubting that, she had the wisdom necessary to become one of the most powerful of High Priestesses, however she had yet to recognize Tak'Hera's tainted blood, and why should she?

This taint was so very rare among the drow, but Talia knew it would be very useful if not invaluable to her household, especially now as G'kar continued to climb the social ladder.

"Finally, we are all together," Matron Talia smiled to her immediate family, the nobility of her household. Normally after a successful raid Drow warriors did not celebrate openly, and the warriors of house G'kar in particular were expected to carry on with their regular lives as if nothing had transpired the very instant they set foot into the compound.

This time however members of the noble family seemed to be celebrating, Borrakul it seemed had offered a toast to some of his fellows for a job well done, which inspired K'ral to do the same, now the soldiers and the wizards were drinking and having a rather good time.

Talia sighed at the thought, her family seemed to have been misinformed.

They acted as if they had defeated the eighth, perhaps even seventh house and earned a place on the council, instead of the nineteenth earning them nothing but a few score more warriors than they'd started with, a higher rank and much fewer slaves than she had hoped for, this victory was a minor one in the long run, and to celebrate it seemed very wrong to the Matron.

"I am ashamed," She said coolly, "of every last one of you in this room, your actions this evening were sloppy, disgraceful!"

Rilian didn't seem at all surprised that he had disappointed his Matron, but also seemed not to care quite as much as Talia would have liked. Though Qillathe and Sivar seemed surprised indeed that their mother would blame them as well, their mouths opened in foolish protest but no words came forth.

Nagru on the other hand had no such problem, he rushed over and knelt down before her and said, "Matron mother, if the weapon master had but advanced according to plan we-"

Talia did not allow him to finish, without the slightest warning she lashed out, kicking her foolish mate in the face, his nose making a satisfying crunching sound. Nagru knew that it was not his place to speak while she spoke, and he should have known he'd be punished for it.

The patron curled into a ball on the floor, holding his face, Talia's heat seeing eyes saw warm blood flowing freely down her lover's face, and she eased back into her stone throne, content that he had learned his lesson.

"Slaves I sent with you, and hundreds more did our enemies possess, now less than those that departed return. Explain." Talia said calmly.

"Th-they armed their slaves." Nagru said, nursing his wounded nose. "We had to cut through them."

Talia noted the face her secondboy made when Nagru said 'we', it was no secret that Nagru rarely, if ever took up combat himself, his talent on the field was controlling the battle and adapting his strategy for any situation, if it were mere cowardice that caused Nagru's reluctance to engage in personal combat Talia would have had him replaced by someone younger and far more vigorous decades ago.

"You mean you got carried away." Talia accused.

"Y-yes matron." Nagru said, probably expecting her to kick him again.

And she did not disappoint, though this time her foot found a different target, and Nagru fell to his knees, and then the floor, holding his groin and writhing in pain.

"Do not get up again." The matron warned.

Talia took her seat again, she noticed K'ral take a cautious step back, and she smiled darkly. "It seems to me that the number of slaves we have is insufficient, would you not agree?" She asked, and all around the room came nods. She tapped her fingers rhythmically against the stone arm rests, "We must, therefore, bring in more."

"I shall go to the market on the morrow and bring back one hundred kobolds." Qillathe offered.

"Too expensive." Talia said calmly.

She got a questioning look from her daughter, kobold slaves were not terribly expensive and they bred fast enough to replenish G'kar's ranks quickly, however Talia could not tolerate the beastly little creatures, most of G'kar's slave ranks had been made up of goblins before, and Talia wanted goblins now.

Sivar seemed to understand what her mother wanted, "Gauban?" She asked, speaking the name of the mercenary who sometimes served the G'kar clan.

Talia nodded, to contact the mercenary and his troop had been her intention ever since she noted the pathetic amount of returning slaves.

Gauban claimed to know the underdark like the back of his hand, and had left Talia and her clan little reason to doubt his claim over the decades, if anyone knew where Talia could find more slaves without having to deal with the slavers on the open market leaving evidence of her house's weakness, Gauban was the one.

Talia looked over her assembled family and made her decision, "We cannot wait for Narbondel to rein in the morning, Sivar shall set out and find Gauban immediately."

"Alone?" Sivar sounded as if she'd rather try to swim to the isle of Rothe.

"You mustn't draw attention to yourself. Take Rilian with you, and also the warrior who slew Matron Sh'tok, that should be protection enough against whatever rouges might cross your path."

Sivar did not seem very reassured, but Talia did not care, the fewer to leave the sooner the group could be prepared, and she wanted Gauban kneeling before her as soon as possible.

"Might I go as well?" Tak'Hera asked suddenly.

Talia looked at Sivar, who did not look like she fancied the idea. "What need have you to go?" Talia asked, finding herself curious.

"I would _like _to," was all Tak'Hera said.

Talia noticed Sivar wring her hands together as if she were imagining strangling the insolent youth, the look that Tak'Hera suddenly shot Sivar told Talia that if trouble should irrupt between the two only one would return. Sivar, so close to becoming a high priestess could not be risked against Tak'Hera, whose tainted blood was the sort of treasure not likely to come into the G'kar household again.

Unless it could be passed genetically, in which case Talia would have to start breeding the girl.

"On the morrow I shall permit an excursion to the Bazaar," Talia decided, naming the district of the city where all open trade took place, "tonight you shall remain with me and together we will say a prayer of thanks to our goddess." She added, to keep Tak'Hera from sneaking away. Talia looked to the rest of her family, "We must all give thanks to the Spider Queen, it is through her blessing that victory was achieved, it will be through her continued favor that we reap victory's benefits."

Again, to varying degrees of enthusiasm, a chorus of "Praise Lolth!" sounded in the chapel, though Talia noted Tak'Hera did not join in.

* * *

Though his tall friend had not said a word of it coming back to the compound, Rilian had not been surprised to see that Ascord had been the one to slay Matron Sh'tok. Sivar on the other hand was outraged, the two youngest and least experienced warriors of the house were to be her body guards and the very thought had her wringing her hands together, perhaps imagining her mother's neck in her grasp.

Rilian had wondered during the entire trip what could have happened to leave Ascord so superior to himself, to slay a matron mother and so many more foes. He had thought to claim a bit of esteem with the killing of a noble, but Ascord had simply killed a more important one. They had left the academy as equals, what then had changed?

He wondered also about the brutality shown to the Sh'tok children, had it been necessary? None of them, with the exception of the few nobles had posed any threat.

He even wondered what was so special about Gauban. He had heard the name during his tenure as a page prince, had met with the mercenary shortly before leaving for the academy even, and had seen nothing impressive about him, in fact he rather disliked him.

Rilian was torn from his thoughts when the three of them were confronted by five rogues, Ascord, whose weapon had been separated at the hilt drew and assembled his two-bladed sword in an instant and stood in front of Sivar, Rilian put his hands to his own sword and his new dagger, but drew neither.

He recognized the leader of the group, a drow who wore no chain shirt, no shirt at all over his bare chest. At his belt, where two swords might have been he had instead two large flasks filled perhaps with a dangerous potion, his sword was strapped to his back, instead of his waist. He wore a pair of ridiculously high cut boots, and a pair of pants so puffy that it was not to be believed.

He smelled terrible, and when he spoke the words "Greetings!" in his terribly loud voice, it sounded to Rilian like a gate in need of oil. Even ten years after their first and only meeting, for Rilian there was no mistaking the sound or smell of Gauban.

"What brings three young ones like yourselves, two of you nobility, to my part of the _eastmyr_?" Gauban chuckled, and his four guards chuckled as well.

Rilian kept his hands on the hilts of his weapons, Ascord tensed as if he were preparing to spring at Gauban until Sivar shoved him to the side and stepped forward. "Matron Mother Talia G'kar of the twenty first house requests your presence." The cleric said calmly.

"Twenty first house? Do you not mean twentieth?" Gauban raised an eyebrow.

"G'kar was the twenty first house last I checked." Sivar said coolly. "Unless something unfortunate has happened to another family . . ."

Rilian tried not to raise his eyebrows at this comment. Everyone in Menzoberranzan probably knew that it had been G'kar that attacked Sh'tok, probably knew Sh'tok's fate even before the dawn of Narbondel, but Sivar acted as if she had no idea.

Rilian supposed it was the proper thing to do, but he hardly saw the point in pretense.

"Twenty first then," Gauban chuckled again, Rilian decided he did not like the mercenary's chuckle, "Tell Matron Talia I will be by to see her within a tenday."

"The matron requests your presence now." Sivar said, reaching into one of the many pockets of her robe she produced a pair of magnificent gem stones. "The business she wishes to discuss will not wait."

Gauban chuckled again and it was all Rilian could do to keep from drawing his sword and shutting the smelly mercenary up permanently!

Gauban inspected the gems in Sivar's hands, then sneered, "I want something more from you, priestess. It would be different if you were a house of stature, say the _twentieth _house, but since you are not, if you wish me to accompany you lowly members of the twenty first house you shall have to show me a winning smile."

Rilian was almost knocked off his feet by the idiotic nature of the request. What kind of mercenary was this Gauban? Sivar never smiled unless she was looking at a spider, Rilain half expected his sister to take her whip from her belt and beat the life out of the insolent mercenary, expected Ascord and himself to have to work together _with _Gauban's four companions just to get his older sister to stop beating the carcass.

Instead Sivar flashed the disgusting mercenary a playful, even seductive smile and said in a voice far too sweet to truly be her own, "Matron Talia has requested your presence, do come with us," She then added, in her regular voice with her customary scowl, "_right now_."

The mercenary nodded, seeming quite pleased with himself. "Take me away then." He said.

Rilian noted the mercenary's four companions simply walked away, not bothering to remain with him, and Rilian did not blame them, he did not want to spend any longer with Gauban than he had to either.

* * *

Matron Talia grinned when the mercenary was escorted through the doors of her chapel. Gauban was not much to look at, but Talia knew better than to judge a book by it's cover.

"Greetings, Matron Talia. You grow more lovely every time I see you." The mercenary said, Talia waved her hand, a signal for him to be silent.

"I have no time for your flattery!" She said loudly, more to match the annoying level of the mercenary's voice than out of frustration.

"Of course not. To business then." Gauban nodded. "What does the city's twenty first matron require of me?"

"Slaves!" Talia hissed, gripping the stone arm rests of her throne eagerly.

Gauban seemed taken aback, "Matron Talia . . . while I do participate in a variety of trades, slavery is not among them."

"I have no intention of buying the slaves." Talia said coolly, "You and your band will lead my warriors to a place where they might round some up."

Gauban smiled, "All the nearest locations are jealously guarded by the slave traders, some of whom are sponsored by houses with but a single number to their rank. How highly does the twenty first matron mother rate her soldiers?"

Talia scoffed. "I know where the nearest locations are, I would not have called you here if I wished to go some place I already know of!"

"True enough." Gauban smiled. "Very well then, what did you have in mind, Matron?"

Talia smiled sinisterly, the next two words out of her mouth caused the mercenary's jaw to drop, and he quickly took a long swig from one of the flasks at his waist.

"The surface." Talia said.


	6. Sacrafice

**Chapter Three**

**The Night Above**

"The surface?" Sivar exploded when she and her elder sister were alone, away from their Matron's ear shot. "The blasted world above?"

"Remember, dear sister, there is always a method to our darling mother's madness. One that most often pleases our glorious spider queen." Qillathe said with forced sarcasm, trying not to sound as pleased as she truly felt. She herself had nearly fainted when she heard that a force would be sent to the surface in secret to gather slaves from a region known to be crawling with goblin caves.

Gauban would be guiding the expedition, but Sivar would be leading it. Borrakul would remain behind, for his magic would be far too unpredictable on the surface world.

But K'ral would be going as well, along with Rilian, and the intriguing young Ascord, indeed it seemed that Matron Talia was sending her best or most promising to the surface in an attempt to limit the quantity of soldiers needed.

A shame it would be if the raid failed miserably, a shame it would be if Matron Talia fell from the favor of Lolth, forcing dutiful Qillathe to eliminate her mother, and take the burden of leadership over house G'kar.

The dutiful high priestess had already spoken to Gauban, who had come over to her way of thinking all too quickly once she mentioned the bounty she would pay him. She now enjoyed what might well be one of her last talks with her sister Sivar, whom she would have little use for once the plan was complete.

She would miss her sister's wide variety of up tight facial expressions for a while, but Qillathe was sure she would adjust in time.

"Matron Talia cannot be serious! How will an expedition to the surface aid in my road to becoming a high priestess?" Sivar demanded, and it took Qillathe a moment to realize that her sister was actually expecting an answer.

Qillathe was a high priestess herself, but she did not know what a trip to the surface could accomplish for Sivar. She smiled sagely though and said, "It is not enough to show Lolth your devotion, you must show the Spider Queen your endless gratitude. You have never laid eyes upon the world of light, felt the heat of the great fire in the sky, only when you have done this will you truly appreciate the wisdom and generosity of the goddess in guiding us away from that inferno and bringing us here where we could thrive. Know true gratitude for the Spider Queen." Qillathe smiled, quite pleased with herself.

Hearing Qillathe's words, Sivar did seem to calm a bit, and the elder G'kar daughter left her sister contemplating the concept of gratitude to their goddess.

Qillathe smiled darkly to herself, Gauban was one piece in place, and now Qillathe meant to see to another.

She passed a pair of soldiers conversing in the halls, one female and one male.

Qillathe refused to speak to the lowly male, and instead addressed the female, "You! Fetch me Ascord Ublaz, bring him to my chambers immediately!" Ascord Ublaz, the warrior who slew a matron mother, the classmate and comrade of Qillathe's brother, Rilian.

The female soldier nodded, and Qillathe took her leave of the pair, glancing over her shoulder once to see that the female had handed the orders down to the male instead, who was running off down the halls with all speed. Qillathe had no doubt the female soldier would be the one to present Ascord to her, while her male counterpart went through the trouble of actually finding the fighter.

Qillathe decided not to exact punishment for laziness, after all the female was doing nothing more than exercising authority and showing the male his place, as was right and proper.

* * *

Tak'Hera sighed as she watched commoners scurry about their duties. Though they were not noble, they were, in a sense, freer than she.

Her every move was watched by the guards of House G'kar. There were always a wizard's eyes on her. She'd far too long ago learned to lose the more common soldiers, only wizards were considered good enough to observe her now.

And the Matron refused to let her stray too far from vision.

She was never allowed an unaccounted moment.

She watched the little people do their various duties, how boring a free life must be.

Tak'Hera rather liked being constantly watched. It challenged her to think of ways to give the Wizards the slip. She had thought of some, but had not yet had cause to put them into effect. Nevertheless, sometimes she wished she could just . . . slip away.

"You did very well, my daughter." The Matron said in a sickeningly soft tone. "Your talents were most useful. The first wave would almost certainly have been annihilated without you."

"I am happy to have pleased you." Tak'Hera said, turning and leaning back against the balcony so she could look at Talia, she didn't bother to bow or show any real difference to the Matron.

She knew she did not have to. She had not placed any charm or spell upon the Matron, yet she could act without proper respect without fear of punishment.

Because she was special. Because she was powerful.

Her grandmother had sought to control her with harsh treatment, threats, and talk of inferiority.

But the girl knew now that she was not inferior. Her talent had swayed the course of an entire battle.

She smirked to herself. Wasn't that what that Spider Queen claimed to do? With a weapon such as Tak'Hera G'kar, house G'kar had not only the blessings of Lolth, but also the empowerment and insight that only Tak'Hera could grant them.

That only _she _could grant anyone.

Well she and perhaps also the one who had taught her . . . if that being still lived.

"You have pleased me. And you have pleased Lolth as well." The Matron said sagely.

Tak'Hera managed not to scoff. Instead she just shrugged, "The Spider Queen certainly is generous with her favor." Mentally she added _to offer it to one who so hates her._

"Indeed. Perhaps you should pray to her in thanks for the noble victory of G'kar."

"No." Tak'Hera said simply. "The Spider Queen is well aware of my level of devotion, if she were not she would not be a goddess. She knows my gratitude." _Which is nonexistent._

"You should still pray." The Matron said.

Tak'Hera did scoff now, though the matron did not punish her for it a look of annoyance did cross the older female's face. "If I pray to Lolth now, might I be granted a small request?" Tak'Hera asked.

"What?" Talia asked, looking intrigued.

"The patrol is going to the surface. But why?"

Talia smiled. "I have my reasons."

"I wish to know them!" Tak'Hera said sharply.

Talia scoffed. Tak'Hera knew that the matron had to have a limit to how much willfulness she would tolerate. Tak'Hera however, like Borrakul, had yet to suffer the Matron's true wrath.

She doubted she would suffer it today.

"Why do you think I would tell you, girl?" Talia asked.

"What harm could there be in telling me?" Tak asked in a tone far softer than before. "I beg you matron mother . . . you are so wise, let me share in your wisdom."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." The matron said, "Especially when it is _that _transparent. You are such a clever girl . . . figure it out yourself."

Tak'Hera scoffed now. "There is so little reason . . . you hire a mercenary, Gauban . . . this is not a common drow name." Tak'Hera pointed out.

"Oh?" Talia raised an eyebrow. "Do you suspect that he is not drow?"

"No. Given his appearance I suspect he is a fool who claimed a more exotic title. This may very well be an attempt to make himself more memorable. That suggests that he does not render service often worthy of memory."

"Go on." Talia said.

"Well no." Tak'Hera said. "All of that is assumption. It could very well be incorrect. All of my other suspicions rely on that assumption and if it is untrue then my theory is untrue."

"An ignorant comment. A being can travel down the wrong road and still reach the proper destination through a different path."

Tak'Hera tried not to let the Matron catch her rolling her eyes. "Very well. My assumption is that you mean to go to the surface for something other than slaves. What that is I cannot imagine. But Gauban is a pawn, a puppet. He is not a powerful mercenary and so if you were to do away with him there would be no serious repercussion, no retaliation from his band. He will lead you to the surface, where you wish to be, and there you will accomplish whatever you wish to accomplish. What that is I cannot guess." Tak'Hera said.

"But it is inconceivable that I would send a patrol to the surface for slaves?"

"Absolutely, my Matron." Tak'Hera said. "Battle slaves are a minor loss, their ranks will be replenished in time. The way to replace them is _not _to send our finest warriors away from home as that leaves us vulnerable to attack from another household with neither capable warriors nor slaves to defend us."

"Could I not simply rely on you?" The matron smiled.

_Use me, you mean._ Tak'Hera thought.

Talia smiled at her and finally nodded. "I do not send them for slaves. I have a deeper purpose."

"And what will you accomplish on the surface?" Tak'Hera demanded.

"Very much, or very little. Let us simply say that a _sacrifice _must be made so that G'kar may step further into Lolth's favor. Lolth has been wroth with us for some time."

"I doubt that." Tak'Hera said. "Your--that is _the _goddess does not often allow those she is wroth with to survive."

"Astute." Talia said. "But Lolth has been unhappy with G'kar for some time now. G'kar is making the same mistake that a greater house once made. The same mistake that led that house to destruction. But Lolth has been patient with us and has given us time to correct our sin.

"But now with this victory of Sh'tok I feel it is time to taste fully the Spider Queen's favor again. Think of what we could accomplish if Lolth loved us." Talia said. "For that, a sacrifice must be made."

"What sacrifice." Tak'Hera demanded.

"One worthy of Lolth . . . one to atone for our sins . . . one as testament to the goddess that we will not again commit them."

Tak'Hera glared.

Sacrifice. She doubted that Talia spoke metaphorically.

"Tell me what house was led to ruin." Tak'Hera demanded.

"We cannot speak their name." Talia said.

"Tell me." Tak'Hera repeated firmly, staring the Matron down. "_Who _do you plan to sacrifice to your goddess?"

"_Our _goddess." Talia corrected.

"_Your _goddess." Tak'Hera repeated.

Anyone else would have been punished severely. Tak'Hera was not.

But she knew who she would sacrifice to Lolth if she were in Talia's shoes.

The false princess who hated Lolth, who would do anything to destroy Lolth. Useful as she was to the G'kar, Tak knew what a fine line she walked and that any other drow would already be dead. But she could not help it, she could not even _pretend _to love Lolth, to even try filled her mouth with the taste of bile.

But Talia seemed to sense her anxiety, "It is not you child. Did I not tell you that Lolth favors you? And I would be foolish to slay my greatest weapon, and my most beautiful daughter."

Tak shuddered, she was not Talia's daughter. She _hated _being referred to as such. "Well then I wish to be part of it. The expedition to the surface. Let me see firsthand your genius, Matron Mother."

"A splendid idea!" Qillathe said, sweeping into the room suddenly, "Let her learn the truth of Lolth's goodness by seeing the bright world that our ancestors left behind. Why I was just having that very conversation with Sivar and-"

"No." Talia said simply. "I will not risk you my dear. Not to the surface."

"I would be in no danger." Tak'Hera protested.

"Of course not my love. But there is always risk. And other than witnessing my brilliance, what reason could you possibly have to venture off with the surface excursion?"

Tak'Hera sighed, "I would ensure their success."

Qillathe laughed, "You? You who has not even set foot in the academy of our glorious Spider Queen?"

Qillathe did not know of Tak'Hera's . . . talents.

Few did. And even they did not know _everything_. Tak'Hera only told her Matron what she needed to tell her in order to survive, and to continue to enjoy the favor she enjoyed.

But she was ordered, upon pain of death not to share her talents with any others. Borrakul knew, for it was at his advice that the Matron had taken Tak'Hera in, instead of handing her over to her enemies for lack of a damn.

But no one else in all of house G'kar knew of her talents, not even Rilian.

And so it would remain. She spoke carefully in Qillathe's presence, "I should greatly like to see the surface, my Matron. I beg you, let me know the kindness of Lolth. Let me see her generosity made manifest, as sister Qillathe suggests."

"We have no idea how you might be affected by the surface. Just as Borrakul's magic would be wild and unpredictable we know not what else the surface affects in us drow."

"Oh she has no magic to worry of, and the process of gathering slaves is hardly difficult. K'ral will be going, as well as the talented Ascord. She could learn much, mother. And when she returns she can go to the academy and become a proper servant of Lolth."

"She serves Lolth even now, Qillathe." Talia said sharply.

Qillathe's light mood disappeared, "Oh! Why yes, of course she does. I did not mean to imply that she did not serve Lolth. What I mean is-"

"What you mean is that I would be like you. A priestess of Lolth." Tak said casually, "Sacrifice my lovers. Marvel at and defend spiders. Give myself to demons. Lash people with serpents. All the things that make life worth living, no?"

Qillathe looked amused, "Do not forget _power_."

"Oh how can I forget _power_?" Tak'Hera gasped in feigned shock.

She never forgot power.

After all . . . her true family had died in pursuit of it. Or at least the illusion of it that Lolth presented her foolish followers.

She hated Lolth. She would pray to the goddess out of mockery, sing songs of hatred to Lolth if she did not fear the consequences it would have on G'kar.

Though she felt no loyalty to any of them they would be necessary instruments in her requiem of vengeance.

The girl managed to survive her own turbulent mind day after day by telling herself that that vengeance was soon coming.


	7. Alloran

**Chapter Three**

**Part II**

Rilian rushed in, and thrust out with his sword, Ascord deflected it and Rilian spun backwards, slamming his dagger into the other drow's back, but feeling the bite of the two-bladed sword cutting into his own.

They separated, laughing, "Well how does it feel to be dead, Rilian G'kar?" Ascord asked him as he threw the dulled and blunted training sword aside to be handled by a common servant.

Rilian laughed and said "For the fifth time today? I am beginning to get used to it."

Ascord's laughter however died and he drew out his true weapon. For an instant Rilian almost believed his trusted friend meant to attack him.

But Ascord said "How is it that I slew so many foes on that night of battle and you claimed only one? You and I are equal, five out of five matches here have ended in a draw, why did you not excel as I have? Is there something you are not telling me?" he demanded bluntly.

Rilian did not know. That was part of the reason he'd asked Ascord to practice with him now, he wanted to see if there was such a gap between them as he suspected.

And there was not.

They were still equal, as Ascord had said. This meant that whatever had happened on the field of battle had somehow been due to some other incompetence on Rilian's part, not that he could ever admit that aloud.

"I suppose," He said, "I was nervous. It was the first time that we had faced drow opponents with true intent to kill."

Ascord gave him a doubting look, but said "You did seem to slow once the slaves were all gone." The larger male laughed and said "Just remember my friend, drow or goblin they are all but pieces of meat once you are through with them, it is the skill that differs but we learned how to assess opponents in the academy, not so? When the time comes, do not hesitate."

"Indeed we did learn much in the academy, and I will never hesitate again, I assure you." Rilian laughed, "Next time it will be Rilian G'kar who takes the head of a matron mother."

Ascord put his swords down and smiled at Rilian, "I will be there to watch, and laugh as you learn that it is far more difficult than you might believe."

They both laughed for a moment, it was weak, forced laughter.

Rilian frowned and turned to his friend, "Ascord, would you ever kill a child?"

"I suppose I would if it were a threat." Ascord said.

"And if it was not?" Rilian asked. "Would you kill it simply because it was . . . convenient?"

"If it is convenient, then I do not see why I would not if it is my desire to do so. It is hard to say, I have not yet met a child whom I wished to kill. Let alone without motive." Ascord said. "Are you thinking of fighting children until we become even in the number of heads we have taken?"

"No, I only . . ." Rilian frowned and shook his head, "Never mind. It is nothing."

Ascord smiled, he seemed about to say something else when a guard spoke up, "Ascord Ublaz, the high priestess Qillathe G'kar commands you present yourself before her this instant."

"Where?" Ascord asked, sounding puzzled, after all he was a rank and file soldier in the house ranks, why should the first princess want to meet with him?

"She requires your presence in her personal chamber." The guard said with a sly wink.

Rilian tilted his head to the side and smirked, "Ah. I wonder, what _ever _could she be calling you _there_ for?" Ascord looked slightly pale, Rilian laughed and said "Remember what you've learned about assessing your opponent . . . and do not hesitate." Rilian laughed.

Though the situation might have amused him in the past, yet again today Rilian's laugh was forced.

* * *

Alloran Firehammer sat reclined on a throne of hard stone.

It was in fact, just hard stone. A boulder, no true throne. But the way he sat there, like a king looking down on his subjects, the odd shaped rock almost resembled a magnificent seat of authority.

Alloran was bald, like any other Duergar. His scalp was covered with magical tattoos, he could make them faintly glow various colors, though beyond that there was no magic to them.

He only made them glow during negotiations when he was upset, or angry. It aided in intimidating the person he negotiated with.

The tattoos were glowing furiously now.

The drow messenger stood proud and tall before him, one hand resting on the hilt of his rapier, the other behind his back in a dignified manner. It didn't impress Alloran, in fact it annoyed him. "My mistress has agreed to your terms, mercenary. She will pay you what you ask."

Alloran nodded, "Good. Now where is it?"

The drow seemed a little surprised, and that by itself was almost worth the trip to Menzoberranzan. Or at least, the tunnels nearby. The Firehammer clan (or at least the portion of it that had come with Alloran) would not have been a welcome sight inside the city of Menzoberranzan.

As it was, Alloran would have to put down any patrol that stumbled upon his band. However the natural ability of the duergar to turn invisible, as well as the Firehammer clan's skill with stealth allowed them to simply avoid detection all together thus far. It prevented needless bloodshed, though any patrol worth their salt would likely have a wizard capable of seeing them.

But so far the tunnels were quiet. It was really quite boring. His boys were spoiling for a fight, and this pompous messenger was only reminding them just how much the gray dwarves hated the dark elves. Reminding them that though the drow paid well it would not be hard to turn on them without a second thought.

One of the reasons Alloran usually tied to get as much of his fee in advance as he could when dealing with drow. Though there was fun to be had in _taking _the remainder from stingy clients.

"What do you mean 'where is it?" The drow messenger demanded.

"Exactly what I said. Where's me money? Ye said yer mistress agreed to the terms, so where's the advanced fee?"

"She never mentioned an advanced fee." The drow snapped.

"Then how much ye got on ye now, lad?" Alloran smirked.

The drow's eyes flashed and he drew his rapier. Alloran moved before the blade was half out of its scabbard, he lashed out with on of his hammers, hitting the drow in the face and likely breaking his nose. The drow rolled on the ground, dropping his rapier and crying out in pain.

The gray dwarf mercenaries knew better than to interfere with their chief's play, and though many of them practically salivated at the hope that they might get to finish off the dark elf, not one of them so much as raised an axe.

Alloran allowed his tattoos to flare as he said "Take this dark elf trash away from me sight, I'm bored with him." The drow looked truly shocked, even confused as Alloran's guards shoved him away. Trying to regain his dignity he mounted his riding lizard and began to set off, nose bloodied but in the air. That is until he found that one of Alloran's mercenaries had tragically cut the harness strap to his lizard while the elf had been meeting with Alloran.

Alloran's duergar made threatening growls and began to put their hands to the handles of their axes and hammers when the drow fell from the back of his mount and cursed the dwarf he'd left it in the care of. The drow then decided to very promptly exit the scene, and seeing him run off, perhaps even faster than his own mount could have carried him _did_ make the trip worth the trouble it had been and the boredom it had caused until now.

"Should I get the boys ready to move out? We'll be wanting to get there before them drow." His second in command, Benmik, a priest of the Duergars' deity, Laduguer, asked.

"Nah. Just ready a score and a half of them, and twice that in goblin battle slaves. That'll be enough."

"Am I to be leading them?" Benmik asked. The priest did so love to kill drow, his heavy full plate armor was adorned and decorated with the jaw bones and ribs of several dark elves, upon the helmet he now had tucked under his arm was the complete and polished skull of a drow matron mother. An extremely low ranking one, but none the less it was quite a kill for the priest, one that many fighters dreamed of.

Alloran however rather liked smashing and crushing a drow skull himself, unlike his tattoos the twin duergar war hammers strapped to his back weren't just for show. One of them was enchanted to catch flame with but a single word from Alloran-and Alloran alone-and it served as something of a banner for his clan, which had been called Fire Hammer long before the weapon came into Alloran's possession.

His second hammer was an ancestral weapon passed down to him from his father, it was mighty indeed and, Alloran had been told was infused with an unholy energy. Alloran was beginning to hunger for a chance to put both to good use.

"Ye ready up the number I telled ye, but I'll be leading them. Ye take the lads back home." The duergar mercenary held up a gauntlet clad hand, "I know yer spoiling for a fight much as anyone so once we're away ye take the next drow patrol to come through here and have yourselves some fun."

"Aye captain." Benmik nodded, "I'll pick ye out the very best of the lads."

"The best," Alloran affirmed, "the best at killin' drow besides yerself . . . may be hard to pick, all our boys is hard, trained killers."

"I know these boys," Benmik laughed, "I know which of 'em ye need for killin' drow, I know which of 'em ye need for killin' orcs, I said I'd pick ye out the best, and ye wont be disappointed with what I give ye."

Alloran smiled and nodded. To the drow, having a second in command who knew the troops nearly as well as Alloran himself, and _believed_ that he knew them _better_ than Alloran did would have been dangerous. To the duergar it still was. But duergar were not such a chaotic race, they were lawful and just, or at least Alloran believe that they were.

He knew if Benmik wanted his job he'd challenge him for it openly, not stab him in the back.

This made his clan stronger than drow, Alloran thought. Had he been a dark elf, he would have already had to kill many of his finest subordinates out of sheer paranoia.

Just like the drow.

* * *

The raid on the surface was quickly, but quietly planned. A score of slavers, accompanied by half a score of Gauban's mercenaries would go to the surface mounted on riding lizards, they would bring back sixty or more goblin slaves.

It seemed a lot of trouble for less than a hundred slaves. But Talia made the decisions, Rilian did not. But there was no sense of impending doom this time, Rilian was confident, and even looking forward to a chance to test himself on the surface.

He wanted to fight again, wanted to show his matron and his sisters that inexperience was not weakness. That he was going to become an excellent weapons master.

He felt Tak'Hera wrap her arms around his waist and put her head on his shoulder, apparently despite all the time Matron Talia spent with the youth personal boundaries had never been discussed.

"You look positively fearsome, dear Rilian." She told him, a slight sigh in her voice. She handed him the dagger she had given him, "But you have forgotten this."

Rilian smiled as Tak'Hera moved over to his bed and lazily fell down upon it. A second time with that dagger she could have ended him but had not. Perhaps it was a matter of having no motivation on her part, or perhaps he was paranoid.

He had not forgotten the blade, he simply did not yet trust it. He had had no opportunity to inquire about it with Borrakul. If it were enchanted its magic might hold a different effect on the surface, as Rilian had heard was the case with most drow magic.

His sword was a different matter as it had come from the surface to begin with.

But he nodded to Tak'Hera, he'd take the dagger, there was always the chance that it too was of surface design.

But it was hard to believe anything so dark and twisted could be made by the weak surface beings.

He checked all of his weapons and nodded, "I suppose it is time then."

"Bring something back for me." Tak'Hera said.

Rilian frowned, "What?"

"I do not know what you will find up there. But if you should see anything nice bring it back for me if you can." Tak'Hera commanded.

Rilian nodded, "Very well . . . if I see anything of value."

"Not value. Interest. Something strange and new. Gold and jewels are all too common here." The lithe female said as she rolled out of the bed and came up on her feet. She cleared the distance between them in a skip and said "But even empty handed, return swiftly and safely, Rilian G'kar," before lightly brushing her lips up against his.

"What was that?" Rilian gawked at her.

"Incentive. To be sure you remember to return to me." Tak said simply.

"That is not the sort of incentive a sister offers her brother."

"No. It is not." Tak agreed. "But I am _not _your sister. And on the subject of things that are not, this is no mere slave raid. Something is not right. Without you, life in this place would be even more unbearable."

"It _is_ just a slave raid." Rilian told her.

"You know better. A drow _child _would know better. I cannot go with you, if anything should happen-" Tak'Hera began but Rilian held up his hand.

"Nothing will happen." Rilian assured her. There had been no sense of impending doom . . . until now. Now Tak'Hera was bringing it about with her worries. But for what? What did it matter to her if he came back or not?

"Rilian, we will be late if we do not go now." Ascord said, leaning in the doorway.

"I uh . . . have to go." Rilian said.

"Yes, I gathered that much." Tak smiled.

"I will return." Rilian assured her. And the time it took him to reach their destination and then return would allow him an opportunity to try to determine just what exactly Tak was up to. What she hoped to gain through this obvious manipulation.

Tak looked at him. It was a strange look. "I have lost too much in this life. Do not allow yourself to be lost to me as well."

Rilian smirked, "Enough games. No one would miss me if I never came back, not even you."

"That is not true." Tak said softly. "You _know_ that I would."

Rilian nearly said something to her. But he wasn't sure what to tell her.

Emotions like those were a weakness, if she was not just playing some game she had to remedy those feelings.

Maybe going to Arach Tinilith really _would _serve her well.


	8. The Surface

**Chapter Four**

**The Betrayal**

Buchlum the goblin sat in a tree eating a rotted piece of meat.

He knew it was rotted because of the worms, and the worms were the best part of the meal.

Beneath him the fire burned brightly. His three companions were laughing and chattering, taking light their responsibility as sentinels.

The safety of their clan rested upon them, and their ability to spot any threat approaching from the northern direction. The direction from which the town of the men lay.

But Buchlum was a goblin, and not a particularly attentive one at that. Counting the number of worms in his meal would have held a greater chance of holding his attention than actually maintaining his duty as a lookout if only he knew how to count.

The numbers Buchlum knew were "a lot" and "a little" he didn't know any fancy specifics. He didn't need to, he wasn't the chief.

He ignored his duty of keeping a look out and instead ate his meal listening to the banter of his comrades below.

He thought to himself that soon it would be his chance to come down, that soon he could make idle banter as well and eat and drink with the others.

Yes soon he would be able to relax without fear of falling from the tree.

He listened in to the talk from below, hoping to know what the topic of discussion would be when he got down. It was rather loud and uproarious so he should have had no trouble making out the words.

But he was having trouble hearing anything over the eerie silence.

He did not understand . . . when had everything gone silent?

He looked down and saw the fire still raging, and his comrades all tucked away, laying down on the ground fast asleep.

Well that wasn't right, that wasn't fair! Bunchlum angrily descended from his perch. Tossing his hunk of meat aside he stormed over to his nearest comrade who lay against a log.

He took the other goblin and shook him violently, but it did nothing to rouse him.

It was then that Bunchlum noticed the dart protruding from his comrade's neck.

On instinct the goblin drew his sword and turned around.

He was just in time to see the dark hooded figure pointing its tiny crossbow at him.

The crossbow was small and compact, Bunchlum could not see it's little quarrels inflicting the sort of damage that should kill . . .

Nonetheless he dodged when the enemy fired, and barely managed to avoid being hit, a second bolt sinking into his sleeping comrade instead.

He cried out to his sleeping compatriots, "Up and arm, up and arm!"

There was cruel laughter as more and more of the hooded figures emerged from the tree line. Bunchlum couldn't count, but he knew there were "a lot" and knew he was doomed.

Several of them pointed small crossbows at him, others advanced with swords drawn. He tried to scream and had every intention of turning around and running away, but before the little goblin could do any of that three of the bolts sank into his chest.

He barely had time to feel them before he fell into a very deep sleep.

* * *

Rilian followed Sivar as she led the troop away from the bonfire. It was far too bright and he'd kept his eyes averted or closed the whole time.

But now as he followed Sivar through the dark woods he was able to take a look around him at the forest . . . it was not half bad.

He would not want to _live_ on the surface world by any means. But it was far from the brightened land of scorching light he'd been told of.

When he looked up to try to locate the burning orb of light in the sky the first thing he noticed was that it _was_ bright. Thousands of little pinpricks in the sky displaying one of the most beautiful, chaotic patterns he had ever seen.

And the centerpiece? If the beautiful glowing disk above him was the burning orb of the sky then the drow of old had exaggerated grossly. It was a beautiful silvery shape, he found it utterly enthralling.

He must have stopped moving to stare up at it because soon he felt Ascord shove him forward into the trees, and his view of the beautiful night sky was obscured by the leaves and branches of the far less attractive trees.

And he was reminded that he had a job to do. He stalked through the woods besides Ascord . . . they had goblins to capture.

The eight little creatures by the bonfire were a start, but house G'kar would need more, many more to justify the risks of this venture.

Skillfully thirty drow warriors stalked through the forest, completely at home in the darkness, completely content in the cold night.

When they came upon additional sentries they were quietly subdued with hand crossbows and bolts enchanted to force an almost comatose sleep upon the afflicted.

The goblin cave resided at the end of a circular clearing about thirty paces wide, in a cave in the mountainside, it was guarded by a few goblins who looked tougher than average, likely the cave itself contained the actual goblin clan.

Rilian considered the situation and tapped his sister on the shoulder, she glared at him but he quickly began to communicate with her in the hand code.

_We've taken fifteen all together, if we withdraw for the night they will surely have to put more sentries out on the next evening, and the next, could we not quietly spirit them away and be gone back to Menzoberranzan over these next few days? _He asked in the intricate code.

His sister shook her head and glowered at him, _Little fool. It is far quicker to simply raid them. Far more educational and far more entertaining._

Rilian nodded, but he disagreed. Raiding the goblin's lair didn't seem that grand an idea. If the goblins could afford to place fifteen sentries they had to have quite a bit more in their lair. They'd also know the terrain better than the invading drow, every twist and turn within their warrens would be a prime place to ambush the invading elves if the goblins were clever enough to realize it.

Stealthily stealing slaves would ensure that the slaves they obtained were all in prime physical condition for the goblins would not leave cripples to guard. If the collective got wise and moved on they would simply follow them, and it would help the drow warriors to further refine their skills in stealth.

Furthermore the mortality rate would be low if not nonexistent. But in the raid it was likely that someone would get careless, or that some of the goblins would get lucky.

Well . . . the privileges of gender, Rilian supposed, was that females were always right. Besides, Sivar was a priestess, it was likely she'd done this before. Rilian assumed she knew what she was doing.

He drew his sword and his dagger . . . they would do things Sivar's way, but he wouldn't mind knowing what K'ral thought of his plan . . . where _was _the Weapons Master?

Several drow snuck up to the sides of the caves and took aim with their hand crossbows, there was a collective "twang" and each guard dropped.

And Sivar swept her hand forward, a gesture that signaled the drow warriors to emerge from the trees. They went like hooded nightmares slowly and meaningfully approaching their target.

Rilian's heart began to race as they approached.

They would enter the cave, kill any who resisted and simply take as many females and children as they needed.

Simple.

But as soon as he entered the cave and saw the line of armed guards waiting for them, Rilian's first thought was that it had been a trap.

But he quickly calmed himself. That was impossible. The goblins did not know they were coming and even if they had it was unlikely that these goblins would inflict serious damage on even a drow force this small, especially since the rather narrow cave entrance nullified their number.

Rilian grinned at Ascord, who nodded back.

Sivar's face became a sick cross between rage and glee, she screamed, damning all pretense of stealth, "Kill them!"

The young G'kar lunged forward and a pair of goblin warriors rushed to meet him. He struck out with his sword, cutting one across the face and then taking the sword hand off of the second in one sweep.

The second goblin wailed in pain, but Rilian lunged forward with his dagger and thrust it into the monster's neck. He kicked a third goblin in the chest, knocking him backwards, and then swept his sword out taking the throat from a fourth monster.

Ascord's two-bladed sword cut cleanly through goblins, taking arms, legs, necks even slicing one unfortunate goblin in half at the waist.

It was wanton slaughter, nothing more. The warriors would be killed and then the remainder would be taken into slavery. It was perfectly normal, Rilian supposed, though far more dangerous than simple subterfuge.

But then he noticed something unusual. The goblins they fought were practically naked little savages wielding stone and wooden weapons with the occasional blade, and that was not unusual. However quite suddenly they went from savage to soldier.

The drow fought through the normal goblins to find armored and properly armed fighters bedecked in black armor, and wielding metal weapons they came on for the drow and Rilian felt his sword deflected by armor that was clearly well made.

The keen blade had left a deep knick in the armor, but had failed to penetrate it, Rilian's dagger however swept out and took the goblin's throat, there was no time to wonder why the goblins were so well equipped just now, that could come after the group was slaughtered.

Then suddenly Rilian spotted a flash of black to his right, an adamantine drow blade came sweeping in for him, he leapt backwards to avoid it and glared at the mercenary that had made the strike.

This was no time for such stupidity, what did this mercenary hope to gain by killing him now?

Rilian's blades met with his fellow drow's and he heard a shout from behind him that diverted his attention and nearly got him skewered on a goblin's spear.

"Duergar!" Someone shouted.

Rilian barely avoided a second goblin's attack as he forced himself to focus on the drow mercenary.

The mercenary however was not so lucky, he sneered at Rilian and was stabbed in the side by a goblin sword, apparently the goblins could not discern one drow from another.

The mercenary fell to his knees and Rilian kicked him into the oncoming goblins, he looked to Ascord, who had just decapitated another mercenary, "Betrayal!" The commoner shouted.

Rilian glared, they were surrounded, goblins in front of them, dwarves behind them and the mercenaries amongst them.

A couple of G'kar soldiers dropped to their knees in surrender, and they were cut down all the same by mercenaries.

Sivar roared, "Cut through the dwarves, return to the underdark!"

Rilian needed no second bidding. He turned towards the duergar and struck out at one of them, the dwarf deflected his strike with its shield, but Ascord barreled in like an outraged hook horror. His sword knocked the shield out of the way, then with the curved edge he cut down into the dwarf's chest, denting the armor but not penetrating it.

Ascord did not seem to care either, he settled for knocking the dwarf away and charged forward and Rilian followed.

A second gray dwarf stood before them, Ascord struck out with his two-bladed sword, leaving cuts in the armor that did not penetrate or draw blood, but Rilian surged forward next, striking out with his keen sword with all of his strength and speed, cutting into the lightly armored neck and nearly cleaving the head from the dwarf.

And they were clear.

Rilian and Ascord ran through the night for the underdark, sparing no thought for the others . . . the order had been to run, and they ran.

* * *

Alloran Firehammer rubbed his gauntlets together and let a satisfied grunt escape his mouth.

A flawless trap.

His goblins had gone in days ago, taken control of the clan, and prepared the defense, his dwarves had used the magic in their own blood to turn themselves invisible and wait in hiding until the drow entered the cave.

Because Drow never sent wizards to the surface only the priestess had any chance of seeing through his boys' invisibility, and he had kept them well hidden to boot.

As he'd guessed she was far too confident.

Now with his hardened battle slaves to their front, his dwarves to their backs and the traitorous mercenaries in their midst the drow really had no escape.

It was a small group in the first place, smaller even then he'd been told. There was no real need to attack with the duergar save to speed the drow's defeat. But Alloran was not taking any chances. The wealth he was being offered for success was too great to risk.

He noticed a pair of drow escape through the ranks, he was about to take up the chase himself but he noticed a pair of his best boys had already taken after them.

Let them have their fun then, he'd join the real fight and see that the priestess was secured.


	9. True Colors

**Chapter Four**

**Part II**

Rilian ran through the woods, keeping his pace with Ascord, fighting the urge to run faster. He was not sure where he was going, he followed Ascord who moved as if he had a purpose.

They had abandoned the others, and that in and of itself was not incorrect behavior. They were drow after all. But now it would be two drow on a long arduous trek back through the underdark alone.

Well . . . well perhaps they would survive, they were both very skilled . . . Rilian had to hope that others would escape as well.

Gauban had betrayed them, if they got back to Menzoberranzan the Matron would have to be informed, Gauban would have to die.

"Hold." Ascord said after a while. Rilian stopped ant looked at Ascord, there were in a wooded area, trees all about, but Rilian could not see the telltale glow of the goblin bonfire that should have been easily visible by now. What direction had they run off in?

Were they lost? Rilian assumed that that was why Ascord had called for the halt, so that they could try to determine what direction the entrance to the underdark was in, for they certainly had taken a wrong turn at some point.

Ascord stood before him, quiet and strong, Rilian looked about, "We should get moving, they will kill us if they find us."

"No . . . they will not. Not both of us." Ascord said.

Rilian was not completely certain of his friend's meaning, and before he could find out what Ascord might be talking about he spotted the duergar coming out of the trees, its axe poised to chop down onto Ascord's back.

Rilian shouted a warning to Ascord, who turned around and brought his sword up in time to parry. Rilian struck out with his sword and caught the dwarf unprepared, the keen blade arced in towards the dwarf's neck, it would be doom for the duergar.

But its comrade's axe sang upwards, and crashed into Rilian's sword.

Rilian had not even known that there was a second duergar, it must have been invisible. He leapt back and the second duergar advanced on him. He gripped sword and dagger firmly and sprang forward again.

There was an opponent for both him and Ascord, so he focused on one and trusted Ascord to take the other.

He struck out a flurry of blows, and each was either deflected by the duergar's shield or armor.

The gray dwarf struck out with its axe and Rilian avoided it by a hairsbreadth, he heard Ascord shout and glanced over to see the larger drow's two-bladed sword had been cut in half down the middle of the hilt, it was now little more than a scimitar and a short sword.

But the shock of seeing his mighty weapon broken by a duergar axe seemed to have left Ascord defenseless, he stood there dumbfounded as the Duergar prepared for another strike.

Rilian moved without thinking, his arm shot out and his dagger flew towards the duergar.

His aim was true and it sank into the gray dwarf's throat, its beard went from white to red in an instant as the sharp, serrated blade cut through its flesh.

Rilian turned his attention back to his own foe in time to feel the axe slamming into his side, but not in time to prevent it.

He screamed and fell to the ground, the duergar charged for him, axe bloodied and raised for the final strike.

There was a "twang" and a crossbow quarrel struck the dwarf right in the eye, the gray dwarf roared in pain and rage, but fell backwards.

Rilian lay on the ground, the axe wound was deep but it probably would not prove fatal. Still he was in a great deal of pain. He groaned and reached into his potions pouch for one of his potions of healing.

"Let me . . ." Ascord said calmly, taking the two potions from Rilian's pouch.

Rilian forced a smile for his trusted comrade, as Ascord uncorked the bottle.

"That dwarf is paralyzed . . . the poison will ware off soon." Ascord said as he hovered the bottle over Rilian's face, then drank it himself. "He will be wanting vengeance for his comrade, whom you killed."

Rilian scowled at Ascord, "Enough jokes . . . I am injured," the young prince wheezed.

"I know." Ascord said. "I had planned to wait until we were on our way back to Menzoberranzan . . . but who knows if I will ever get such an opportunity again?"

Rilian stared at him. What was he saying?

Rilian knew what he was saying, in his head he knew. But in his heart he couldn't believe that Ascord, his most trusted of friends was going to . . . murder him.

"It is very likely that you saved my life, Rilian G'kar," Ascord said, snatching the amulet from his neck and putting it too in his pocket, "My thanks."

"What . . . what are you . . ." Rilian gasped but Ascord cut him off and answered.

"Doing? I am going back to Menzoberranzan. You can die here . . . alone. When the paralysis poison wares off and that duergar regains the use of his body I will be long gone . . . and if you have not bled to death he will finish you. I am giving you these extra moments to reflect on your life . . . am I not gracious?"

"Coward." Rilian spat.

"Gracious." Ascord corrected with a thin smile. "Farewell Rilian G'kar. You did prove useful . . . some of the time."

Rilian could not accept this, could not believe it, "Why?" He asked.

"Ambition." Ascord said calmly as he went so far as taking Rilian's gold and even his sword, "These may prove useful. Your final gift to me I suppose, along with the potions and the amulet."

Rilian felt such hatred he could not believe it. "Kill me now . . . Ascord Ublaz!" Rilian gasped, "Kill . . . kill me now . . . or I will kill you!"

Ascord stared at him for a moment as if considering it, then smiled cruelly, and laughed rudely, "I do doubt that, Rilian G'kar, former secondboy of house G'kar. I do doubt that."

Ascord got to his feet then and walked away into the woods, Rilian lay there alone, in pain and without hope.

He would die alone on the surface . . . his only comfort was knowing that there was no way Ascord would reach Menzoberranzan alone. One of the underdark's monsters would take revenge for him.

No . . . that was not enough! _He_ had to be the one to take Ascord. _He _had to be the one to kill that traitor.

He moved his hand over the wound and held it closed as tightly as he could as he struggled to get to his feet and failed miserably to even kneel.

He glared at the duergar, which was still frozen, paralyzed. He crawled over to its slain companion, using one arm to pull himself along on the ground, the other to hold his wound closed.

He reached the dwarf and began to search the body desperately for a potions bag. These dwarf warriors would have to be fools to come to the surface with at least one healing potion on their persons. Rilian's troop had had them after all.

He rummaged and found gold and various other useless items, but just as he was about to give up hope he found them, the potions.

One was inky black and thick, the other was thin and blue, he opened the blue vial first and considered it.

He smelled it, and it smelled vaguely familiar, but none the less it could be poison.

But Rilian decided that that did not matter. He would be just as dead if it was not. He drank it.

He felt strength run through his body, and for a brief moment he had hope.

Unfortunately this strength was only strength, his wound did not close or even feel any better.

Leave it to a dwarf to want _more_ strength.

Rilian looked at the remaining vial. Black was not a color well known for its healing properties, the youth assumed, but in truth he knew nothing of potion making. He closed his eyes and simply drank it.

At first he felt nothing . . . then he felt despair coming over him.

And then he felt a slight burning sensation in his side, and the wound began to close.

The drow struggled to his feet and turned to the paralyzed duergar . . . the dwarf that had injured him.

His weakened state was to be blamed on the dwarf, it was that creature's fault that Ascord had betrayed him.

No . . . no from Ascord's words he had been planning it for some time. He had meant to do it on the way back to Menzoberranzan . . . Rilian scowled. It was Ascord he wanted to kill . . . but he couldn't have the duergar following him either.

He tore his dagger-which Ascord seemed to have forgotten, from the throat of the dead duergar and walked slowly over to the paralyzed dwarf.

He moved slowly, waiting to see if the poison had wore off, to see if the dwarf would fight back.

It had not. He did not. Though the drow felt the strangest discomfort slaying an opponent who could not fight back, it was easy to remember that this dwarf had been the one to wound him. Rilian raked the dagger across the gray dwarf's unarmored neck and it died, unable even to scream.

He then performed a quick search to see if there were any potions on this dwarf's person, and he was quite annoyed to find only an empty vial and a few gem stones.

He glared in the direction be believed Ascord had walked off in, he gripped his dagger firmly.

Ascord Ublaz believed it would be that easy to take Rilian's possessions and leave him to die on the strange and alien surface? The G'kar prince would prove him wrong.

He and Ascord had always been equals, but tonight he would end that one way or the other. One of them would have to die.

Rilian stalked through the forest after Ascord, he would find him, he would kill him, he would have his revenge.

* * *

Alloran sat on a stone as yet another drow stood before him. This one was dressed in a ridiculous fashion and he reeked of cheap wine. Alloran glared at it as it congratulated him for his exceptional work.

"I thank you for remembering the difference between my warriors and theirs," The mercenary said, indicating himself and the three others of his troop who had survived the battle.

Alloran nodded, "Aye . . . well your mistress paid me well, I assume she paid ye well too."

"Indeed. Mistress, or dare I say _Matron_ Qillathe is most generous." The mercenary drow said with a grin.

Alloran grinned back, "So then how much are your lives worth to ye?" Alloran asked.

The mercernary looked shocked, "What? Surely you jest master Firehammer. I am Gauban, mercenary of Menzoberranzan! D-do you know how many drow warriors I could call against you for this insult?"

Alloran made a show of looking past Gauban and counting on his fingers. "Three."

Gauban was either shaking with anger or fear, given that he was a drow it was probably the former, though Alloran would have been quite pleased with the latter. "When I return to Menzoberranzan, you will regert this decision."

"If ye return. Ye got three boys and yerself, I got me near two score just in goblins, what do ye say to that?"

Gauban glared for a long time before saying "What price do you demand for my life?"

"For your worthless hide? Mere pocket money, good master elf. A trifle, a mere ten thousand gold pieces. fifty five hundred for ye, and fifteen hundred for each of yer boys. "

Gauban snorted and glared at Alloran, "You dare to extort such a fee from me?"

"Ye dare keep on talking when what ye should be doing is showing me some wealth?" Alloran asked, finding this extortion to be rather fun.

Even if he killed the drow he could probably make ten thousand gold pieces just from selling their magical equipment.

The mercenary glowered at him and finally said "I do not have so much gold on my person such as it is. But if you spare me until we reach Menzoberranzan I will see to it that you are paid in full."

The duergar smirked and clapped his hands once, and one of his boys came up to him.

"Aye sir?"

"Relieve the drow of every one of their possessions . . . let 'em keep their clothes unless they look suspicious, put 'em in chains and keep 'em under guard." He grinned at Gauban, "Ye'd best be hoping yer cronies in Menzoberranzan are going to pay for ye . . ."

Gauban glared, Alloran only laughed.

Anything he could do to trouble a drow elf was worth the doing.


	10. Orcs

**Chapter Five**

**Escape**

Sivar ran as fast as her feet could carry her.

Though she knew it would be wise to let her two surviving soldiers stay close to her she simply would not wait for them and they were slowly lagging behind.

Soon she'd be safe in the underdark, she'd get to the lizards and ride back to Menzoberranzan.

Her mother would punish her, but she'd win the old hag over in the end, she'd do whatever it took to win her mother over.

She came to the cave's entrance and slipped on a slick rock, falling on her back and sliding into the depths.

Pain shot through her body, she screamed as she descended into the blackness to which her eyes were so accustomed.

She tried not to roll, instead sliding in a sitting motion as best she could, she slammed into the ground and heard a bone crunching snap!

She tumbled forward and lay on the ground gasping for air . . .

It was cold, it was dark, it was home.

She was safe, she could get back to Menzoberranzan.

She struggled to her feet and found she could not stand, instead she fell onto her back and cried out in pain.

She turned to her two soldiers, "Help me up!" She commanded, and they ignored her, leaping astride their lizards and riding off without looking back.

Sivar moaned pitifully in the darkness, her legs were broken, she was sure of it. She curled into a ball screaming in pain.

She had not bothered to prepare any healing spells strong enough for such injuries, assuming that her band would only receive light injuries from the goblins. She used what magic she did have on her legs to no real avail and when she was out of healing spells she felt panic overcoming her.

She gave in to her pain, she screamed and she wept, praying that Lolth preserve her from these ghastly little dwarves. Over her own screams though she heard soft footfalls on the stones, she knew someone was coming.

Sivar used her arms to claw her way towards one of the lizards. If she could just get on and strap herself into the harness she might escape, she might get home!

If she could just have the chance to pray to Lolth for stronger healing spells she could regain the use of her legs . . .

But it was futile, the steps were coming closer, she'd never reach the lizard in time.

This was where she died.

She drew her hand cross bow only to find it had broken in her fall. She held onto it anyway, prepared to throw it at whomever came in one final act to defiance.

But the forms that appeared were now dwarf, but those of three drow.

Weapons Master K'ral, as well as a female with a great sword and Rilian's comrade, Ascord.

"Another straggler." K'ral chuckled. "Sivar my dear you seem . . . damaged."

"Give me your healing potions, all of them!" The priestess demanded.

"We have none." K'ral said evenly. "We have all used up our supply."

The female leapt onto a lizard and K'ral did likewise. But he turned to Ascord and said "Take the priestess on your mount, we head back to Menzoberranzan."

Sivar noted that Ascord carried Rilian's sword and took that to mean that her younger brother would not be returning with them.

No matter. So long as _she _returned.

It was a shame that Rilian had perished on the surface, but no loss to her personally.

She held on tightly to Ascord, pressing her chest against him and making sure that he could feel the full size of her bosom against his back so that me might feel slightly more motivated not to let her fall from the mount.

Though still wracked with pain Sivar refused to scream now that she was no longer alone. Holding her tongue however was incredibly difficult. It was so difficult, and she was so focused on it that she did not notice that the gentle whisper in her mind, the echo of thought that she had always associated with Lolth . . . was gone.

* * *

Rilian ran through the darkness, he was certain that he was taking the correct path and he became all the more certain when he noticed the glow of the goblin's bonfire through the trees up ahead.

He'd been a little off course apparently, but he'd found it. He came upon the fire and entered the clearing without thinking, his mind clouded with thoughts of vengeance.

Ascord was not there, nor were the goblins they had put to sleep.

In fact this was the wrong clearing all together. Rilian stared in shock at three of the largest, ugliest orcs he had ever seen.

They seemed just as surprised as he was, one of them hefted a huge great sword off the ground and approached Rilian, he held out a hand as if to halt the drow, who was not moving anyway, and said in rather poor under common, "Who you being?"

Rilian stared for a moment, trying to figure out if that creature had intentionally formed a sentence, or if it had been some miraculous accident. He decided however that he'd best try to answer and said "I am Rilian G'kar, second boy of House G'kar, of Menzoberranzan."

The orcs looked confused.

"I am a drow." Rilian offered.

Ah, that they understood, now the other two drew their weapons as well.

"You elf?"

"A dark elf, yes." Rilian nodded.

"We kills elfses." The orc told him.

"How lovely." Rilian said without emotion.

"We kill you maybe." The big orc said.

"I think not."

"Thokk." One of the other orcs said.

The big orc scratched its chin and nodded, "We take you to our chief, we take you to Thokk, he know what to do with you, maybe he kill you, elf . . . that be funny."

Rilian decided he wasn't going to get anywhere with these oafs, he said nothing more, but summoned up a globe of darkness upon the two standing behind the leader, and lunged forward.

The orc took a swing with its massive great sword and Rilian dropped down to avoid losing his head, but kept on coming.

Holding his dagger under handed he slashed the orc's thigh, and spun around, slamming it into his armpit, the orc stumbled but didn't fall, screamed but didn't die.

It swept its arm back, knocking Rilian to the ground. He rolled to avoid the sword as it came sailing down towards him, he rolled to his feet and enacted his innate powers again, forming an outline of purple faerie fire around the orc, which began to wail in surprise.

Rilian sprang again and slammed the dagger into the orc's chest. The orc roared in pain and fell back just as his two companions emerged from the globe of darkness.

Rilian tore the dagger free from his opponent's chest, the strength the potion had given him had not worn off yet and though the blade had been jammed in to the very hilt he easily pulled it free.

The next two orcs came at him one wielding a morningstar, the other a falchion.

Rilian leapt backwards and called again upon his drow blood, this time the tricks of his nobility to levitate up into the air.

He spun midair and kicked off from the branch of a tree, propelling himself towards the falchion orc.

Rilian came on fast, too fast for the orc to raise its sword against him, he held his dagger out and led the way with it, slamming it into the orc's rough porcine face burrying the blade deep between the creature's eyes.

Rilian abandoned the dagger and instead took up the falchion which his foe had dropped.

He came up on his feet, the other orc was eyeing him closely, but without much intelect.

Rilian smiled wickedly at it, and it charged for him, howling. It raised its morningstar into the air and struck at him, Rilian managed to dodge but just barely.

The weapon slammed into the ground and was stuck, the orc's hand swept out to strike Rilian, and he dodged that as well.

The drow swept the heavy falchion up and the blade slammed into the orc's arm, failing to sever it but cutting down to the bone.

The orc howled and tore its morningstar free of the ground, Rilian kicked it hard in the knee before it could attack him with the dangerous spiked weapon, and sent the orc to the ground, the falchion came free in the process..

The young drow grinned and finished his foe off by beheading him as he came to his knees in an attempt to rise and continue fighting. He dropped the falchion, having no desire to carry it forever, or use it in his battle with Ascord, and instead came over to the orc whose head still held his dagger.

He tore it free and then wiped it clean on the creature's body.He stood up straight then, the rush of battle warring off he felt a sharp pain in his side.

He put his hand down against the wound he had suffered from the duergar's axe and was surprised to find that it had reopened.

This was not good. The wound was not as bad as it had been before, but it was bleeding and the drow feared he had no way of sealing it unless by chance the orcs had some healing potions amongst their possessions.

And they did not, he was quite disappointed to find after several minutes of bleeding and searching. He pulled his hood over his face to avoid the bright light of the large campfire.

He was beginning to feel faint, he staggered to his feet, leaving behind the last of the orc corpses. He heard footsteps approaching, heard rough voices speaking a language he did not understand.

He fell backwards, too weak to stand. He lay on his back, eyes stinging from the glow of the bonfire.

But as he gazed up at the night sky, clearly visible above him, he sighed.

If he died now, at least he could do so looking upon one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.


	11. The Assassin

**Chapter Five**

**Part II**

Tak lay on Rilian's bed thinking quietly to herself.

She knew things were strange, there was an odd feeling in the air.

She tried to detect the thoughts of others for any clues but she found none. All she knew was that the patrol would have reached their destination by now, if the surface raid had anything to do with a sacrifice it would be happening now.

She had thought long and hard of houses she knew that had made some kind of error that Lolth punished them for. She knew of very few, for in her twenty six years of life she had witnessed few falls, and history was not kept of past failures.

Dead houses were erased from the city's mind all together, so she had no way of knowing any house that might have angered Lolth in the way that G'kar was in risk of doing.

She missed Rilian. He was naive to a fault, which amused her, but he was alsofour years her senior, perhaps _he _remembered something.

And she enjoyed his company.

She slowly opened her eyes and saw him, to her utter amazement standing in the doorway.

"Rilian!" She gasped, but the male standing there just smirked at her.

He looked just like Rilian, though he was older. He had more muscle and dressed in black leathers and a hooded _piwafwi_. He had two swords at his waist, one long and one short.

He leaned against the dooway and whistled, "You _are_ a pretty one."

"Who are you?" Tak'Hera demanded.

The male smiled and bowed, "You do not recognize me? I am crushed. Well you were but a child when we last knew each other. You have grown up quite a bit, and quite nicely I might add." The male glanced at his finger nails, "Still too young for me, I am afraid."

"Excuse me?" Tak scowled.

"You are excused, it is not _your _fault I am not attracted to adolescents." The male scoffed.

"Who _are_ you?"

"The real owner of this room, such as it is." The drow said, drawing his short sword, "You are in my bed. Were you perhaps a decade older I would not mind, but given our circumstances I must ask you to get up, I am very tired."

"This is Rilian G'kar's room, and Rilian G'kar's bed . . ." Tak said, annoyed that she could not read this one's thoughts.

But she considered his words, according to what she knew these quarters had once belonged to the house assassin . . .

The assassin that had abandoned the household several decades ago . . . could this be him?

Whether this drow was or was not Tak was amazed by his resemblance to Rilian. Was this Rilian's _father_? A cousin perhaps?

He came over to the bed and motioned with his sword for her to get up. "Come now, I have not got all day."

"I have." Tak said testily.

The male smiled, "Your father's arrogance. Do not assume that I will not cut your beautiful tongue from your beautiful face. In fact I find silent females far more alluring."

At the mention of her father Tak'Hera frowned. Suddenly this male's voice, everything about him came back to her. The face that she had never forgotten, but had after so many years come to associate with Rilian instead, "You mentioned my father?" She glared.

"I did." The assassin said. "You really do not remember me? It was _I _who brought you here you know. It was I who made you a princess instead of common trash."

"I _do _remember you now, you took me away from my father!" Tak hissed.

"He _sent_ you away. He did not _want_ you. He would have left you to roam the streets as a thief, a whore, or some other equally respectable profession. I brought you here where you would enjoy life as a noble, where you would be safe. Relatively speaking that is, no one is truly safe in Menzoberranzan."

"And you have seen other places?"

"Girl I have traveled far and wide in the Underdark and I have seen the Night Above. I have seen areas of the Underdark deeper than any drow in their right mind should venture, yet never have I felt less secure than I do in Menzoberranzan amongst my fellow drow."

Tak shook her head, "You know my father. Take me to him." She commanded, and added "Now."

"Sorry, but I have not seen him since the night I brought you here. He and I have finished our business together." The assassin shrugged.

Tak scowled, "Why are you here?"

"Because tonight everything changes. I want you to be prepared for it."

Tak'Hera frowned, "Why should you care whether or not I am prepared?"

He smiled "Because Takira Kenlyl, last of the Kenlyl, despite your vaunted taint you have failed to notice that I have come. That suggests that you also have failed to notice the steady increase in soldiers in the compound."

"I have not. But is it not a common thing for a victorious house to hire new blades?" Tak asked.

"So quickly?" The assassin smirked. "_They_ are here now. Surely you know who I mean. Perhaps your father is among them."

Tak shuddered, "Mercenaries."

"Not just any mercenaries my dear, the _finest_ mercenaries. _Bregan D'aerthe_."

"For what purpose?" Tak'Hera demanded, thoroughly annoyed that she had failed to detect this.

"An internal struggle. Qillathe means to seize the title of Matron Mother. That is why she means to eliminate all contenders. Her sister Sivar, the current Matron . . . and you, my pretty."

Tak glared, "She sent you for me."

"Oh yes." The assassin nodded. "She is offering me quite a great deal of money as well."

"So why do I yet live?" The girl demanded.

"Because you are worth more to me alive than dead."

"Are you certain that the mercenaries are _Bregan D'aerthe_?"

"I see some familiar faces, yes." The assassin shrugged.

"And my father . . . he is of _Bregan D'aerthe_?"

"Is or was. It has been many long years since I knew him." The assassin said.

Tak smiled, "Then perhaps Qillathe will not be the one to claim the title of Matron. Perhaps _I _can." The girl almost levitated with glee at the very thought that she could so quickly become Matron. The very idea that she could take the first step on her road of vengeance _and_ be reunited with her father. Surely if she could offer him a place in her new noble household he would accept it.

"You are smarter than that girl. Your intellect is as keen as my blade and your wisdom is greater than many priestesses twice your age, or so Borrakul tells me." The assassin said dryly.

"So Borrakul is involved in this too?" Tak scowled, annoyed at being insulted and complimented at the same time. "Why is what I say wrong?"

"You lack patience, an odd trait in a drow." The assassin said, "You also know not that were you to be the only living G'kar princess the council would not allow you to take control of the clan because you are not a High Priestess of Lolth, nor are you an appropriate age. G'kar would instead be folded into a greater house, perhaps even one of its near rivals, and either way your safety is much harder to ensure in that scenario."

"Very well then wise one, advise me." Tak said sarcastically.

"Join with either Talia or Qillathe. I will watch over you whichever course you choose. Keep in mind that if Qillathe knew how useful you could be to her, knew of the things you had done as a mere child she would be far kinder to you than she is now. Also Talia has exposed herself to her daughter, a move that her Spider Queen may not look kindly upon, I cannot say. But while Talia would indeed do her best to keep you safe she may not be able to keep herself safe any longer. She has always been prone to wild acts, but this time she seems to have relied too much on a loyalty that never truly existed."

Tak smiled darkly, remembering Talia's words of a sacrifice.

"Perhaps you give your mother too little credit, assassin." She said.

* * *

Holdan moved through the woods towards the source of the fire ahead.

The ranger loathed travelers who did not know well enough to build small, controlled fires when in his woods. But he would be glad if they were travelers at all, since the number of orc in the woods had been steadily increasing of late.

His son, Handan followed in his footsteps, literally placing his feet only in the tracks of his father. Holdan was doing his best to train the boy now that his former apprentice had come into her own, and the boy was learning well, but he tended to take some things, like the order to 'follow' a bit too literally.

Holdan wished he had managed to befriend a nocturnal animal in this area of the wood, but he generally stayed away from the place where the woods met the rocky hills.

A mistake on his part, there were tribes of goblins, now it seemed a clan of orc, caves that led who knew where, and even darker things within them, he should have been more vigilant.

Were the sun in the sky he could have had a hawk in the sky to investigate the fire, but then again were the sun in the sky there would be no need for a fire.

He approached the clearing and gazed out at the grizzly scene.

Orcs, three of them lay dead, and a cloaked figure stood illuminated in the firelight. It had the slender, lithe frame of an elf, and surely an elf would have taken it upon himself to slay the beastly orcs on sight, never mind if he were looking at another Ranger.

Holdan put an arrow to his bow and drew it back, "You there!" He shouted in the region's common tongue, "Who are you? Are you one of Lady Galanodel's people?"

The hooded figure staggered a bit, and then simply fell to the ground, Holdan watched it carefully for some time before finally deciding to investigate further. He looked to Handan and said "Do not move, if there is trouble remember what I have taught you and fire straight and true."

The boy nodded and Holdan emerged from the woods, pulling his own hood over his head.

The man put a hand on the hilt of his sword, and ran his free hand through his thick black beard, a trait he exhibited whenever he was nervous. He had an intensely bad feeling about this situation.

He examined the orcs as he passed them, they certainly looked rough. They also looked like members of the same clan Holdan had been encountering so often lately, affirming in his mind that there was a sizeable clan in the area seeking to perhaps stake a claim.

And that would be a threat to the town of Waywocket, which Holdan guarded.

He came upon the dark cloaked figure, and _nearly_ dropped his sword in surprise.

A drow!

The drow lay there, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Holdan felt an overwhelming worry coming over him, if there was one drow there might be others.

And if these orcs were being led by drow then that could mean great trouble to Waywocket. He raised his hand to summon Handan over, the boy came running. Holdan examined the drow, it was bleeding steadily from a wound to its side, but it was breathing.

"What is it?" Handan asked.

Holdan didn't answer, "Your rope, lad."

"Rope?"

"Your rope." Holdan repeated, trying to remain calm. He'd bind it first, then stabilize the wound with a bit of his-albeit limited-healing magic, then he'd take the drow back to Waywocket . . . let them question it and see what its involvement with the orcs were, see what the situation might be.

Holdan knew it was dangerous. If this drow was a valued member of the orc horde they might send someone to come after him. However given the fact that it was here surrounded by dead orcs he doubted that it was a welcome member of the clan.

Perhaps its fellow drow, if any, had decided he had outlived his usefulness? Perhaps he was an assassin sent to deal with three deserters? Holdan didn't know, but if there was anything this dark elf could tell the people of Waywocket, willingly or otherwise, it would be worth it to save him and bring him in to town.

He tied the creature's hands, and legs.


	12. Khondar

**Chapter Six**

**Waywocket**

Rilian woke in darkness, and was grateful for it.

He was underground . . . was he in the Underdark?

He moved his hand over the wound in his side and found it was fully healed. Had Sivar found him and used her magic to heal the injury?

He looked down at the wound and noticed something rather odd.

Where was his armor? Where were his weapons? He was dressed in a light shirt and his own slacks but no armor, no weapons . . . and his hands were chained together and covered in an odd sort of plaster.

How annoying. He glared into the darkness and saw an ancient looking duergar sitting in a wooden stool nearby, a pipe in its mouth. It wore long flowing robes, its beard was long enough to be tucked into its belt, and it wore a golden medallion upon which was etched a symbol that Rilian did not recognize.

"Ah . . . awake then are ye?" The duergar grunted in undercommon. Rilian nodded. "I got questions for ye then lad. Answer them proper and I wont be needing to smash yer skull."

"Where am I?" Rilian demanded.

"I told ye, _I _am the one asking the questions lad." The duergar said coldly. "Now never mind where ye be, where did ye come from? Ched Nasad?"

"Menzoberranzan. I am Rilian G'kar, secondboy of House G'kar, twentieth of Menzoberranzan."

The dwarf chuckled, "Are ye now? Well that's very nice. So tell me second boy, what brings ye to the surface? Anything to do with orcs?"

"I do not see how that is any of your business." Rilian said crossly.

"This is a simple line of questioning lad, cooperate and we won't need to interrogate ye . . . ye don't want me to _interrogate_ ye." The duergar said evenly. "Now why did ye come to the surface?"

Rilian glared at the duergar, "Why did your band attack us?" He demanded.

The dwarf looked surprised, "So ye were attacked then?"

Rilian frowned, could this duergar be from another clan? He'd assumed he'd been found and taken prisoner by the same duergar that had slaughtered the slaving party . . . but if that was not the case there was no point in saying anything else on the matter.

"Ye came to the surface . . . because someone attacked ye?"

Rilian shook his head, "This is over. Release me or kill me, I will not answer any more questions."

"Are ye certain? It'll be much easier for ye if ye just do as we ask. We may even decide not to execute ye if ye cooperate." The duergar said calmly, and Rilian refused to speak. After a few moments the duergar nodded and said "Fine then. We'll be getting the information from ye one way or another . . . I just thought I might try to get it from ye the easy way . . . before the council comes in to force it from ye the _fun_ way."

Rilian scoffed, the duergar left and he was alone.

He was in a large, empty room. The only article in the room aside from the chains that held his hands and legs together, and the longer chain that left him tethered to the far wall was the stool the duergar had sat on.

If he could reach it he might have been able to break it apart and use one of the legs as a weapon, a spike or a club, unfortunately his tether kept him far short of such a goal.

So he sat in the darkness, cured of his physical wounds but alone and ever so slightly afraid. Confused and helpless . . . was this how his story was to end? It would have been better if Ascord _had_ killed him.

But the thought of Ascord steeled his resolve. He'd escape this place, he'd find Menzoberranzan . . . he'd kill Ascord.

* * *

Khondar Deepshadow scratched his bald head as he stood before his chieftain, Barundar Brottor.

The Shield Dwarf regarded the duergar with a nod, "What did he have to say?"

"Little." Khondar shrugged. "Got me a name off the lad, and a place of origin, little else."

"Oh? Anyone important?"

"Hardly. A prince, but that's not for sayin' much in drow society. From G'kar he said, but I never heard of them." The duergar reported.

"Well ye can tell it to the council, they're sitting like their chairs is made of knives." Barundar said, running his hands through his long golden beard.

The gray dwarf nodded, "Aye . . . doesn't seem like there's much danger of him being in league with any orcs though."

"Oh no?" A melodious if somewhat condescending voice scoffed. "Drow elves are grossly deceptive creatures, why should the name he gave you be his true name? Why should the place he named be his true home?"

Khondar turned to see the tall slender moon elf, Silvanen Sianodel of the Galanodel village leaning against the tunnel wall. It was unusual for the elf to come into the undertown of Waywocket, where the dwarves and gnomes dwelt. The elf, like most visitors, usually preferred to remain aboveground in the upper town with the human residents.

"If ye came here hoping the see the drow ye'd be out of luck," Barundar said, "The lad gets no visitors."

The moon elf's friendly smile went from ear to ear, "Not at all. I came to see one of the smiths about a special armor job."

"Aye? Ye'd still arrange for that in upper town, not here." Barundar told him.

"You mean the undertown is restricted to me?" Silvanen asked evenly.

"Don't try to put words in me mouth, or take this personally." Barundar said coolly, "Ye are as welcome in the undertwon as anybody, but _nobody_ is allowed near the drow."

"Ye'll have to forgive him chief," Came a voice, Khondar turned to see Dankil Bladefist, one of the younger members of the Brottor clan, a brother to Barundar's wife Dorna. "I telled him to meet me here by the mead stores, I was hoping to pop in for a drink before we got to talking business, I telled him before I knew we was going to be keeping the durned drow in the old wine celler."

Khondar smiled at the young shield dwarf, Dankil was a good lad but a little overeager, especially when it came to forging special orders.

Barundar accepted the story as well with a grin, "Well get ye yer drink quick and get about your business then ye durned fool."

"Oh aye chief, aye . . . care to join us?" Dankil asked.

"Us?" Silvanen groaned, "You mean you actually expect _me_ to drink dwarven mead along with you?"

"Oh well I don't see why not." Dankil said in a confused tone, "Tis good stuff the mead, and I always talk business better with a full mug in front of me."

Ah . . . that explained why Dankil was always taking on fantastic and often impossible jobs, Khondar decided.

"We'll be seeing ye later," Barundar laughed, "The council is in session now, we'd best be getting to them with what we've learned. Ye two take care and don't drink up everything now, or I'll be telling old Meindor about yer little adventure," the clan head said, naming the grizzled old dwarf in charge of the cellars, who constantly and to no avail tried to defend them from the younger dwarves such as Dankil.

The young dwarf and the elf nodded and set off down the tunnel to the mead cellars. Khondar whispered to Barundar, "Dankil's a good lad, but a might dim. Supposin' that elf gets away from him . . . Silvanen's hatred for drow is common knowledge in his own village, well as ours."

"Ye needn't fear for the drow, Khondar. I left the durned drow a guard, don't ye doubt." Barundar said, "I'm more worried about what the council will have to say if this drow elf really aint a rogue attached to a clan of orc. The last thing this town needs is a raid from a whole durned drow patrol."

Khondar nodded, being a gray dwarf who'd grown up in the underdark he knew better than any, save perhaps Barundar, just how deadly a drow war party could be.

* * *

Silvanen grinned widely at the dwarven guard, "The council sent us. We've food and water for the prisoner." He said, indicating himself and Dankil, who held a dried loaf of bread, Silvanen waved a flask of water at the guard.

The dwarf grunted, "Aye. On with ye then."

Silvanen smiled and led Dankil into the dark elf's cell.

The tall, and handsome moon elf smiled when he saw his smaller dark cousin. "Ah little drow. Greetings. I hope you've made peace with you're whore of a goddess . . . because you'll soon be meeting her."


	13. Silvanen

**Chapter Six**

**Part II**

The dark elf looked up from the ground, his red eyes blazed hatred once they met with Silvanen's glorious blue orbs.

The moon elf sneered as his dwarven companion shoved the torch towards the drow's eyes. It was far more for the drow's discomfort than for Silvanen's benefit, but the moon elf appreciated it none the less, for he could not see in complete darkness as the dwarves and the drow could.

The drow tried to bring his hands up to his eyes, hands that had been encased in some kind of plaster, no doubt to keep him from casting spells.

But the chains that held him did not allow his hands to meet his eyes, he closed those hateful red orbs and tried to move away from the torch, but the chains again denied him.

Silvanen laughed. How he hated drow.

"Fairy!" The drow hissed with utter hatred. Hatred that mirrored Silvanen's own.

"Does it surprise you to see me? The stories your whore of a mother must have told you about we _proper _elves. We who do not disgrace the name. Does it surprise you that I can speak your language, drow? It should not. I have been killing your kind long before you were born." Silvanen laughed, this drow was little older than his own son.

Under the light Silvanen could see that the drow was not only young, but relatively healthy. How much of that was due to Khondar's spells Silvanen did not know. The youth's long white hair was rather well groomed, his fair black skin, disgusting and repellant to Silvanen, was not bruised and relatively unscarred.

It supported his claims of being a prince if nothing else.

"What is your name, drow?"

The dark elf opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light and glaring defiantly at Silvanen.

"I will kill you slowly, fairy." He said darkly.

"Indeed. Your name?" Silvanen laughed, spinning his dagger in his hand, "I can cut your tongue out if you like . . . and my dwarven friend here can restore it, he is a talented priest."

It was a lie, though Silvanen would have been pleased if it were true. He wanted to cut this drow, to stab him . . . maim him . . .

But if he did so the dwarves would know someone tampered with their prisoner.

Though Silvanen had every intention of getting information from the drow, this visit was far more for his own personal pleasure. It was rare that he had a drow under his power.

"Are you one of those cursed Vhaeraunites? Is the masked fool your god?"

"I will force you to eat your own heart." The drow said flatly.

Silvanen laughed, and then kicked him in the face.

It had been an accident, he hadn't meant to lose control . . . but if felt good.

The tall elf grinned to hide his distress, but if the drow was damaged the dwarves would wonder why, and he was the obvious suspect.

"What was that for?" Dankil asked.

"He insulted you, I defended your honor." Silvanen lied.

"Durned drow!" The dwarf roared and he kicked the drow as well with a much heavier boot than Silvanen.

"Now my friend, we should try not to break anything." Silvanen told the dwarf, who nodded.

"Hurry up then, get yer questions answered."

Silvanen nodded back and crouched over the drow, "Do you thirst, drow prince?" He asked, pouring the flasks' contents on the ground in front of the drow. "Drink it from the ground, you vile being of the underdark."

"I have not been without water long enough for that." The drow said with a grin, "I can teach you much of torture, and I will as soon as I am free. We will take our time . . . I will make you pay for every crime your race ever committed against mine."

"Then I shall not have very much to pay for, every crime committed between our races has been committed by the drow." Silvanen laughed, and brought his dagger close to the adolescent's throat, "But you misunderstand . . . I want to see you lick the mud before me like the groveling worm you are, I do not care if you thirst or not. Do it . . . or I end you now."

The drow glared and whispered "Very well then . . . master fairy . . . I shall."

Silvanen grinned as the drow slowly bowed his head . . .

But Silvanen's grin disappered when the dark elf lunged forward, slamming his head into Silvanen's stomach. The moon elf coughed and fell back, the drow was upon him.

The young dark elf slammed his knee into Silvanen's groin and bit down on his wrist. Silvanen roared in pain and Dankil rushed over and booted the drow off of him.

The drow rolled away as far as his chains would allow, but struggled to his feet, Silvanen gripped his now bleeding wrist and to his surprise realized he no longer held his dagger.

The drow held the beautiful blade in his mouth, his fiery eyes fixed firmly on Silvanen, the drow sprang.  
Dankil lunged forward himself, using his torch as a club, but the nimble drow avoided the strike by rolling out of the dwarf's way and tripping him with the chains. Silvanen backed away from him, out of the chain's range.

But the drow came on somehow.

He sprang just far enough to bring the blade a hair's width from Silvanen, then he withdrew, Dankil yanked on the chains and the drow spun, ready to strike at Dankil with the dagger instead, but the dwarf struck with his superior reach, the club slamming into the side of the drow's head and laying him flat.

Silvanen glared at the drow, and his chains, better illuminated in the torchlight now. They were quite a bit longer than Silvanen had believed, longer than they had seemed. He sneered at the drow, "You pretended the chains were more confining than they really were. From the very moment we entered you deceived us, even suffering near blinding in order to maintain the charade. Your kind are the sires and of all lies and the dams of all deception, I should have known." Silvanen recovered his dagger, the hilt of which was sullied with the drow's blood.

The moon elf laughed and stood over the drow, he kicked him hard in the side, no longer caring if he left a mark . . . not caring if the drow died. "Who do you serve?" The drow seemed disoriented, and it was not to be expected. He shook his head as if he were trying to clear it, Silvanen kicked him again. "Answer me!" The elf screamed.

The drow coughed and made a pathehetic attempt to kick him back, but Dankil stomped on the dark elf's ankle, "Tell him if he puts up anymore fight, I'll end him!" Dankil commanded.

Silvanen had no intention of saying any such thing. He kicked the drow again and hissed "Tell me drow, do you serve? Are you one of the Vhaeraunites? Do you serve the priest Khazzal? Do you serve the son of Lolth?"

"Son . . . of Lolth?" The drow seemed confused.

Ignorance of Lolth's son, Vhaeraun . . . it was possible. If this drow was from the underdark it was terribly likely that he had never heard of Vhaeraun.

Which would mean that he was not connected to the Vhaeraunite tribes that were infecting the forests around the Galanodel village. He was no threat to Silvanen's village, he had had nothing to do with the murders that had been committed there, had not been the one to kill Silvanen's brother.

But he was a drow . . . that was reason enough to kill him.

"If you will not answer my fair and reasonable questions, then I am done with you." Silvanen said, kneeling over the drow prince, his dagger raised for the killing blow.

"Aye. You're finished with him all right." The gruff voice of Khondar Steelshadow said.

Silvanen's arm froze, and he turned his head very slowly to see the duergar priest of Moradin, and a trio of armored shield dwarves standing by the room's entrance.

Silvanen could still kill the drow. But he might be punished most severely for it, might even be killed himself by these dwarves . . . his own life was not worth that of the drow.

He got to his feet again and held his hands in the air, "Master Steelshadow," Silvanen said in the common tongue, "good to see you again. Why Dankil! It seems we have taken a wrong turn, this is not the correct storage room!"

The duergar did not seem amused. "Ye mean to commit murder elf. Ye mean to end the life of a helpless foe, one that might know secrets worth hearing."

"He aint so helpless!" Dankil cried.

Silvanen nodded and presented his still bleeding wrist.

The duergar priest glared, "Serves ye right, don't it?"

"Of course . . . I should have known you would side with the evil one." Silvanen sighed disdainfully.

"I'm not siding with the drow if that's what ye mean. But the only evil I'm seeing is yerself, elf!" The gray dwarf roared angrily.

Silvanen laughed, "Master duergar, I understand that it _seems_ as if I was about to commit an act of evil just now. But this drow is a vile murderer, he would murder you and this entire village in their sleep . . . all drow are vile, disgusting monsters merely masquerading as elves."

"Just as all duergar are monsters masquerading as dwarves?" Khondar barked.

Silvanen smirked, so _that_ was it. "Master Steelshadow, do not compare yourself to this drow. You are of a caliber far greater than his. You recognized the wrongness of your kin, and the dwarves are a noble race to begin with. The duergar were twisted after generations of slavery, the drow willingly _followed_ Lolth into the Underdark . . . they are beyond redemption. To kill this one would be the same as stepping on an insect, not murder."

The gray dwarf just glared. "Get ye gone before _I _commit murder."

A female shield dwarf, the wife of the clan's head aimed a crossbow at Silvanen, "He'd reach ye even before me bolt did, elf. Get ye out of me sight."

Silvanen shook his head, "Very well. Come Dankil, they do not need us here."

The young shield dwarf nodded and followed Silvanen out, the elf heard the dwarf female bark to Dankil in dwarven, "Take better care the friends ye choose brother. There's not a shred of difference between that one's heart and the heart of a durned drow."

Silvanen clenched his fists at his side. Stupid dwarves . . . they knew there were so few tongues that Silvanen did not speak, didn't they know that he spoke theirs as well?

To compare him to a drow? There was a chief difference. A drow would have begun to plot the fat dwarf's death for such a comment, Silvanen however only planned to suggest Lady Lia of Galanodel trade a bit less with these drow loving bearded folk.

He was not evil like the drow. He was a moon elf, he would never be anything like a drow, it was impossible.

* * *

"Ye alive, lad?" The duergar demanded roughly.

Rilian grunted in response.

"Lad looks a might shook up." A female dwarf commented.

Rilian glared at her. A shiled dwarf . . . she was a shield dwarf! These were surface dwarves! Was this not the underdark? Was this duergar not a representative of the clan that ambushed his party?

"Wipe that look of yer face or I'll be wiping yer whole face off." The shield dwarf grunted..

Rilian glared on for another moment out of defiance, then turned to the duergar, "Let me go free."

"No." The gray dwarf said flatly. "But ye will get some exercise."

"Will I?" Rilian laughed, "I only just took some exercise . . . did you not see the fairy that tried to slay me?"

"What fairy?" The shield dwarf demanded, "I didn't see any fairy. Ain't been one seen in these parts for a half a century!"

"That's just what the drow call their cousins." The duergar said.

"What did you mean by exercise?" Rilian demanded.

"Ye are to be marched in front of the city council and to them ye are to plead your case. If ye tell them everything they want to know ye'll be given a swift execution, if ye don't then we bring ye back here to starve."

"My fate was decided rather quickly!" Rilian cried, "This is ludicrous, you will release me or an entire army will come for you! I am _Prince_ Rilian G'kar of Menzoberranzan!"

"Aye, but I'm not the one ye need to be pleadin' with. Tell it to the council lad, but I don't think ye'll get an offer much better than swift death."

"I do not plead!" Rilian snapped.

"And I don't _care_, lad. You're to be presented to the council of Waywocket, now get ye ready."

Rilian laughed rudely, "What preparations would you have me make?"

"Say yer prayers lad. Silvanen, that 'fairy' as ye put it, will be sitting in on with the council, and he represents our most trusted allies, the elves of Galanodel. His opinion matters greatly, and we've all seen what _he_ thinks we should do with ye."

Rilian smirked. "Never in a real fight."

"Aye, well ye'd not give him a fair fight if your places were reversed, so don't expect one from him."

Rilian shrugged, he had not said _fair_. "Take me before your council now, I have no need of prayers."


	14. His Fate

**Chapter Seven**

**Councils Light and Dark**

Barundar Brottor sat on the council of the town of Waywocket.

A town that was home to three different kinds of beings, shield dwarves, rock gnomes and humans, it had been decided by the founders a hundred years ago that there should always be a representative of the people on a council of equals, after all a human couldn't properly represent the interests of the dwarves on council.

With him sat Dumble the gnome, a priest of Garl Glittergold, the god of gnomes, and brother to mayor Dimble, and with them, representing the humans was Mortimer, a wily old merchant.

Barundar glared across the table at the drow youth standing before the council in their chambers in the upper town.

He was not at all pleased about having been marched through the town in broad daylight, drow eyes were quite sensitive to sunlight, as Barundar knew, and the drow might still have been rubbing his eyes had Mortimer not ordered his hands be tied behind his back.

So now the drow stood there, glaring at them.

"Well lets begin," Mortimer said, "Introductions are in order, ask him his name."

"It is Rilian G'kar, of House G'kar, twentieth of Menzoberranzan." Khondar translated both Mortimer's question and then the drow's reply.

"Charming. Now ask him why he's here." Mortimer said coolly.

Khondar translated the human's words, the drow answered without hesitation.

Khondar growled something at the drow, but Dumble reproached him, "Tell us exactly what he says, no matter how rude or profane."

"He says he's here because we're holding him here, your honor." Khondar said, bowing in apology.

"Perhaps we were not clear in our questioning." Dumble said, nodding slowly.

"No, ye were, and I were clear in me translation but he's being difficult."

"Ask him if he knows what we'll do to him if he continues to be . . . as you put it, difficult." Mortimer said.

Khondar translated and the drow just shrugged and winked at Mortimer.

"Now ask him why he has come here."

Khondar translated again, and the drow responded, "I was separated from my patrol," he says. A slaving patrol."

Dumble wrinkled his rather large nose, "Oh I say! To make slaves of any creature, what a horrible thing to do!"

"He mentioned House G'kar. What is that?" Mortimer said.

Barundar answered that question, "Drow nobility are arranged into Houses, much like dwarven clans. It isn't unusual for drow to either serve or be part of a house, but for this lad to have the surname suggests he's a member of the noble family."

"So we have a drow noble in our grasp." Mortimer said with a greedy look in his eyes.

"Lad says he's a prince." Khondar nodded.

"For what that's worth," Barundar said, hoping to kill any thoughts playing through Mortimer's mind of trying to ransom the drow prince, "in drow society it's the women-folk that rule, males are good for breeding and sacrifice, being a prince he's slightly more valuable than the average male, but not by much."

"I see . . ." Mortimer nodded slowly.

"Ask him about the orcs that Holdan found with him." Dumble said.

"He tells me that they attacked him and he killed them all himself." Khondar said.

Holdan, who stood in a corner near Mortimer nodded, "That's possible. It'd also explain his injuries, he literally dropped once I got there."

"Very well, we've established that he can fend off orcs." Barundar nodded. "But that doesn't leave me feeling any more certain that he's got nothing to do with 'em."

"Nor I," Mortimer said, "but I do fear the retaliation of his household should they learn we have him."

"I telled ye, males are worthless to the drow, they wont come for him." Barundar said.

"Well it seems to me that he's of no use to us." Mortimer shrugged, "He cannot be ransomed to his household and he cannot offer us information about the orcs. I suggest we simply execute him."

"Now now, there's no real reason to just kill the boy!" Dumble cried, "Why not let him go?"

"Because if he finds his way home he'll be coming back if he can, with an army at his heels. Drow won't forgive indignities like being captured." Barundar shrugged.

"Besides, he said he came for slaves did he not? There are many women and children in this town that would made adequate slaves." Mortimer said.

"Aye, that's fact." Barundar said, "The elf is too dangerous alive."

"W-wait!" Khondar said suddenly.

Barundar raised his eyebrow, "Aye, Khondar, what is it?"

Barundar knew the look on his blood brother's face was one of determination.

"Barundar me chief, I have a plan . . . let me take the lad."

"Master Steelshadow we have _professional_ executioners." Mortimer said.

"That is'na what I mean!" The duergar said to the human, though he did not take his eyes off of Barundar.

Barundar understood. He looked at the young drow. He stood there masking his fear with boredom and the shield dwarf would be lying to himself if he tried to deny finding a certain pleasure in seeing a drow elf trying so hard to deny the fear they were feeling. Barundar hated drow as much as the next dwarf, and he had no desire to let this one live.

But Khondar . . .

"What's your suggestion, Khondar?" Barundar asked.

Khondar ran his stubby fingers through his white beard, "Release the drow to me care, he's more like to trust me than any of ye."

"To what end?" Mortimer asked.

"He can be spared to live here." Khondar said firmly.

"No he cannot!" Mortimer laughed.

"Yes!" Dumble cried happily, "I can see it now, Waywocket, home of gnomes, dwarves, men _and _elves!"

"Elf. He is one, and I'd not tolerate a second." Barundar said coolly. He glared at Khondar not with anger but with concern. What was the gray dwarf playing at requesting mercy for a drow?

"You speak as if it had been decided." Mortimer said, "But I'll not have a drow roaming this town."

"He'll not be out of me sight for an instant." Khondar said firmly.

"That is not the point, I would not sleep well at all knowing there was a drow elf in my town who wasn't properly chained, or better still properly slain." Mortimer said. "I doubt there are many who would not feel the same."

Barundar had to agree. He was one of those people, except unlike Mortimer he'd set out to correct the problem personally with the help of his axe.

He knew many of his dwarves would do the same. He shook his head at Khondar, "The drow'll be slain."

"No!" Dumble protested, "He's just a boy!"

Barundar shook his head at the little gnome priest, Dumble was not usually one to be so nieve, he was a very wise old gnome . . . but he was not showing it now.

"He's a dangerous _boy_." Mortimer said.

"The man speaks sense, we cannot have a drow roaming this town. You've children Dumble, would ye like the drow to murder them in their sleep? Would ye like him to murder you and deprive those children of their father? He cannot live here with us, it is not his place." Barundar said.

"It could be argued that this was no place for a duergar either." The little gnome said.

"Watch yer mouth, or I'll punch it in!" Barundar roared.

"But he's right." Khondar said, and suddenly Barundar understood where the gray dwarf was coming from. "A being's race doesn't define them, I can prove it. Let me take him in, let me teach the lad."

"Ye've got nothing to prove Khondar." Barundar said.

"Certainly not, master Steelshadow!" Mortimer said with a surprised look on his face, "We all know your quality."

"But then again," Dumble said, "If we know master Steelshadow's quality why do you now doubt his judgment?"

"The lad deserves a chance. And I can make it worth the risk." Khondar said.

"Really?" Mortimer asked suddenly, eyes alight with greed again.

"Aye. I can." Khondar said, arms crossed. "The drow is our key to the orcs."

"How so?" Holdan demanded suddenly, standing up from the wall against which he'd been leaning.

"Give me a chance to gain the drow's trust," Khondar said, "Then let me appeal to his mercenary nature, the nature of all drow. Let me use him against the orcs."

"How?" Mortimer demanded.

"The lad wants to go home. He'll never make it by himself, give me time to convince him of that. Shouldn't take long if he's got any sense at all. So I convince him that I've got a way back to the underdark, one that'll get him home safely, but in exchange for it I want to know all about the orcs movements. Maybe, if they're hostile, we ask for the head of their chief to boot."

"I s-say master Steelshadow . . . _do_ you have a secret path through the underdark?" Dumble asked, wide eyed.

"Of course not. even if I did it would not be towards any durned city of the drow. But it's not me plan to really let him reach his home ere again."

Barundar was surprised. Surprised and impressed by Khondar's declaration. "And what'll we be doing when he's brought us the head of an orc chieftain and demands a map or whatever it is ye'll promise him?"

"When the lad's outlived his usefulness? Well we'll examine that when we come to it I think." Khondar said.

"I agree, maybe he'll even become a welcome member of the community!" Dumble cried.

"Not likely." Mortimer said coldly. "But if he is kept under guard I will agree. Until such time as he becomes too great of a burden. One mistake and I want him dead."

"I'll keep a pair of me best boys with him." Barundar assured the human, "if Khondar believes it's worth the risk then it's worth the risk."

"I'd be of little use belowground," Holdan spoke up again, "but when the time comes I can track him aboveground. There's not a single spot in the whole forest surrounding this village that my "eyes" cannot see."

"In that case why can you not track the orcs?" Mortimer asked.

"I can, and I shall once they commit to entering the forests. They've slain too many of my allies that have strayed outside the safety of the woods into the open plains." Holdan shrugged, "But it would be difficult, likely impossible for me to infiltrate their actual camp as the drow could if master Steelshadow's plan works. I support it."

"Very well then . . . I suppose I shall as well." Mortimer sighed.

* * *

"All right drow," The duergar said roughly, "Council's been generous. Ye wont be killed."

Rilian scoffed. "Well good. I am glad to see you've come to your senses. Now release me."

"Not so fast." Khondar scowled, "Ye ain't being released."

Rilian's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ye're mine now lad. I've been needing an apprentice, ye'll do fine."

"Oh I should say not." Rilian scoffed, the very idea of serving a dwarf in any manner disgusted him.

He'd always been told that duergar were a _lesser_ race. They served the drow, not the other way around, if his family came for him and found him the slave of a duergar they were terribly likely to just leave him on the surface and return to Menzoberranzan laughing.

No, they wouldn't come. Ascord would say he was dead if he got back at all. Rilian scowled, no one would know he lived and really who would truly care? The only person who'd get him back to Menzoberranzan was himself, and if he had to serve the duergar for a few days, months, decades even in order to find a good chance of escape he would do so . . .


	15. Her Choice

**Chapter Seven**

**Part II**

Qillathe laughed to herself as the pair of rather dashing males rubbed her shoulders and feet as she half sat half lay on a couch listening to Borrakul tell her about how well things were going.

"Bregan D'aerthe has infiltrated so completely it boggles the mind. It is almost as if mother _wants_ them to be here." The wizard said with a smirk.

Qillathe had decided to allow Borrakul to join in her insurrection, she would use him as well as her brother Enialis to slay mother and she would slay whomever remained afterwards. Her entire family had to die, G'kar needed to be purified by the blood of its nobility.

Save for Sivar, whom she needed alive. She would offer up her sister's heart to Lolth in tribute to her dark goddess.

It had not been easy tracking down the assassin, in the end she had had to resort to spending every copper she could claim to her name just hiring Bregan D'aerthe to do it. The fee for the insurrection she would pay them through the house coffers _after _she was Matron.

She would like to believe that it was in their best interest to see her succeed, but in truth if they failed and she was unable to pay them, assuming her mother did not sacrifice _her _to Lolth, Bregan D'aerthe would be very likely to take the tithe from her, and in that scenario the only thing she'd have of value would be her life.

But life as a failure was not worth living. This was her time to claim the title of Matron or to die in shame. Either way it was all in Lolth's name.

There was a gentle rap on the door, Qillathe allowed her laughter to subside and nodded to Borrakul, "Open the door for your Matron." She said.

"Careful _Matron _Qillathe. Your words should be more carefully chosen for you never know whom is listening in." Borrakul said.

"Never mind that, open the door." Qillathe commanded.

Borrakul nodded and glided over to the door. He opened it and in came young Tak'Hera.

Tak'Hera bowed before Qillathe and rose, her violet eyes shining with mischief, a common look in the eyes of any drow adolescent. "Matron Qillathe. How terribly interesting."

Qillathe smirked, "And here Borrakul had told me you were clever. If you were truly smart you would have held your tongue and silently taken your new knowledge to my mother."

But Tak'Hera returned the smirk, "New knowledge? My dear Qillathe I have known since the first mercenary set foot in this compound. I always know everything that goes on and I have long known that you are planning to overthrow Talia."

"Matron Talia a bit longer." Qillathe corrected.

"But only a bit I expect." Tak'Hera sneered. "Sister, no I will not sully glorious you by claiming relation. Rather I say _Mistress, _I come to offer my services. I believe you will find me quite useful."

Qillathe laughed, "And what can you do, you who has not even set foot inside the academy? Cut purses? Physical entertainment for a reasonable price? Dance on your hands perhaps?"

"All of that if my mistress demands it," Tak'Hera said evenly, "but my actual talents are far more useful. Has Borrakul never told you of _why _soon to be former Matron Talia took me in?"

Qillathe glared at Borrakul, "He has not. But now that I am to be his Matron, perhaps he should."

"Why ask me when she is right before you?" Borrakul scoffed. "Let her tell you."

Tak'Hera smiled, "My darling mistress, I would most certainly be pleased to tell you everything."

Qillathe liked this new more respectful Tak'Hera. Oh yes the girl knew how to pay respect to those who deserved it. "Well then your mistress commands you to tell her."

Tak'Hera nodded and said "Mistress as a small child I survived the destruction of my true house, Kenlyl."

"I am thus far unimpressed." Qillathe warned with a sneer. But she recalled the fall of Kenlyl, the house had been annihilated by Baenre, the first and most powerful house for practicing worship of an alien goddess.

Qillathe didn't know details of course, in Menzoberranzan it was generally common knowledge that you worshiped _no _goddess apart from Lolth.

Tak'Hera nodded, "Of course mistress. But you see standing between me and escape was a cadre of Baenre soldiers and one priestess. An exiled princess from a dead household this High Priestess of Lolth had once been a teacher at the academy from what I have heard."

"And?" Qillathe asked, waving her male attendants away and leaning forward to hear Tak'Hera's story.

"She tried to cause me harm, and so with a simple action I ravaged her mind. Hers and those of her comrades."

Qillathe scowled, "Show me." She glanced at the less attractive of her two attendants.

Tak'Hera's eyes flashed without hesitation. They began to glow furious purple and suddenly the attendant lurched forward and screamed.

He roared in pain, grabbing his chest. Qillathe sneered, "What is it? What is happening to him?"

"M-my heart!" The handsome attendant screamed, and clawed his chest as if he meant to rip the organ from his own ribs.

Qillathe felt a tingle go through her spine, "Oh how delicious!" She smirked at Tak'Hera, "Enough girl, spare him."

The male fell to the ground suddenly and whispered, "It was as if I was reliving an old injury . . . one from years past!" He shook his head.

Qillathe glared, "Did I give you permission to speak?" She did not wait for an answer, she pressed a hand against his neck.

With a touch she could cure him or kill him . . .

She chose the former over the latter. He was attractive, and she felt she might need his services soon in more ways than simply massaging her shoulders, there would be bloodshed when she took the throne after all, she would need sword arms.

She allowed her magic to heal him, and he rose to his feet. "Hold your tongue in the presence of your mistress until she grants you leave to speak. If I hear so much as one more word from you before I grant you that needed permission you die."

The attendant nodded nervously and Qillathe turned back to Tak'Hera, "As for you, as clever of a trick as that my be I have trouble believing that it could work on a priestess."

"I did something very different to the priestess, and I suspect I left her quite mad afterwards. If my mistress wishes I may demonstrate _that _trick on brother Borrakul." Tak'Hera offered.

Qillathe laughed and clapped her hands, the troubled look on Borrakul's face alone told her all she needed to know.

If the girl tried it, it would work.

"And what else? Come now girl give me more reason to let you live."

Tak'Hera lowered her gaze, "I control battlefields. I see them in my mind, I influence their course. I place thoughts in the minds of our captains, they _know _where to strike the enemy. I force my way into the minds of the enemy and plant seeds of despair, I fill their heads so that they cannot focus on the fighting at hand. The G'kar infantry would not have lasted so long against their vanquished enemy without me. The one called Ascord would never have slain a Matron Mother without _me_ to guide him."

Well that was interesting. It also brought some measure of worry to Qillathe. If Ascord was not truly powerful what if he lost to Rilian? What if Rilian survived and came back to Menzoberranzan?

She smirked, she would simply kill him in that case. His heart would not gain her much favor in Lolth's eyes, but he was noble and that might be enough.

"And why did you favor Ascord in that battle?" Qillathe asked.

"I wished to take a nothing of a warrior and make him the battle's hero so that soon to be former Matron Talia would know that it truly had been my influence-in addition to Lolth's blessings-that brought G'kar victory."

"And why not choose Rilian instead, do you not fancy him?" Qillathe sneered.

"Dalliance is dalliance, warfare is serious business. Besides which you all expected great things from Rilian as it was, Ascord was unknown to you and you cared nothing for him so that even if I failed there would be no loss to G'kar." The girl said, though she averted her gaze from Qillathe as she spoke.

Qillathe smiled, "Interesting . . . my sister. If you can prove yourself to me when the time comes I will allow you a place at my side."

"Yes mistress, but if I might make just one request?" Tak'Hera asked.

"Make it, but I do not promise to grant it." Qillathe said.

"There is a small matter, I require vengeance against the ones who wronged me in the past, the ones who murdered my mother. Soon to be dead Matron Talia believes me too frail to risk in any way but I pray that you, Matron Qillathe, my mistress would allow me to seek out and kill my enemy."

Qillathe frowned. Baenre had destroyed Kenlyl. Did this girl know that? Was she aware that at best and with much luck and Lolth's highest of favors G'kar would only be able to fight Baenre and win if there had been literally centuries of good fortune for them, and poor fortune for the First House.

But she nodded and said "Who is this that wronged you, do you know them?"

"Her name is Vierna Do'Urden. I mean to kill her."

Qillathe was taken off guard, "The Do'Urden were annihilated over a decade ago."

"Not this one. She lives and I wish to remedy that."

"If she lives she does so at the behest of the Baenre." Borrakul pointed out. "Did you not kill her the night Kenlyl fell? Surely she is whom you meant when you said an exiled priestess stood in your way."

"She is, and I meant to." Tak'Hera said darkly, "but I was stopped. All I ask of you Matron Qillathe is to allow me to hunt down and murder my enemy, in exchange for this I offer you a lifetime of loyal servitude. Anything you ask of me I will do, your word will be as strong as Lolth's to this worthless being you see before you."

Qillathe smirked and forgave the slight sacrelidge. "When I truly am Matron Qillathe G'kar you will have your revenge little one. And in exchange you will see me Matron Qillathe G'kar of the _nineteenth _house before one year passes."

"Bargained well and done, my mistress." Tak'Hera bowed. "When the insurrection begins I will ensure the swift victory of our forces."

Qillathe nodded as the girl left. Borrakul shook his head, "She is a clever little one."

"I disagree." Qillathe said. "To come to me and reveal everything all at the mere hope that I would grant her one act of vengeance? She is a fool. When this is over I will discard her unless she can prove truly useful."

* * *

Enialis was leaning against a wall as Tak'Hera walked by. She flashed him a brief smile, though she should not have been able to see him with his ring of invisibility on.

He smirked and realized that his ring of invisibility was activated at the cost of his ring of mind shielding which resided on the neighboring middle finger. He dropped the illusuion and walked alongside the young female, "How did it go?"

"Well enough." Tak'Hera answered.

"You told her everything?"

"I told her what she is required to know. She will not live long enough to spread the knowledge very far and even if she does it means nothing to me."

Enialis laughed, "I can see why that brother of mine favors you."

"What do you know of Rilian?" Tak'Hera demanded.

Enialis smirked, "I spoke of Borrakul, who sings your praise as if you were his own daughter. In fact his sings your praise far more than that of his own daughter. But none the less I am sure my abominable younger brother must favor you too, a beautiful creature such as yourself." Enialis gave her an appraising look.

It was all show, he had no intention of performing any base acts with this girl, but her reaction now that she could not read his thoughts was most enjoyable. She crossed her arms to cover up the way the she subtly wrapped her robe more tightly around her, concealing herself. She also drifted to the side a bit as she walked and increased the distance between them.

The assassin smiled, teasing her was such fun.

"Why do you call Rilian an abomination?" Tak'Hera demanded.

"Because he should not be alive. He is the third son born to our dear mother. Lolth demands the third son always be sacrificed to her upon birth but because I left the household before his birth she chose to declare me dead and cut off and instead try to raise Rilian as my replacement."

"Lolth will not be pleased then when Rilian returns and there are three G'kar princes." Tak'Hera smiled to herself, "Lolth's unhappiness at his existence must be what attracted me to Rilian in the first place."

Enialis glanced at Tak'Hera . . . did she truly believe Rilian would be coming back?

He chose not to speak to her on the matter. Chose to keep his peace. Let Tak'Hera find out when Sivar was dragged back kicking and screaming that the young would-be assassin had been or would also be killed.

Enialis smiled. He was one of a kind, it had been silly of his mother to attempt to replace him and likely it had caused her to slowly lose favor with Lolth. Not being a priestess of Lolth the assassin had no clue where the females of the G'kar clan stood in the Spider Queen's favor.

But none-the-less Tak'Hera would betray Qillathe and support Talia. In exchange for supporting Talia at the expense of Qillathe Enialis himself would be welcomed back into the family with open arms. One way or another there was no longer any room for Rilian in this household.

If he was foolish enough to return, he would learn that all too quickly.


	16. The War Chief

**Chapter Eight**

**The Horde**

Thokk watched his motley assembly of orcs and half-orcs pack up the camp.

He was a Half-Orc, an educated one at that. He'd used his superior intellect to rise above his orcish cousins.

A true rarity among orcs, Thokk had been born to an orcish mother from a human father. Usually it was the other way around, and more often then not a Half-Orc came about because an marauding orc brave forced himself upon a human woman.

Not the case with Thokk's parents for his orcish mother and human father had somehow managed to truly care for one another and conceive not only Thokk but also his younger brother Turk.

For the first half of their lives they had been raised among orcs, occasionally venturing with their father to human settlements.

Thokk spent the later half of his life among humans in the city of Amn. He was said to be highly intelligent and not just for an orc.

But what good was intellect to one such as Thokk? He had found the best use for his brains was to take control of a small horde of orc and give in to his proud warrior heritage. The pure blooded orcs did not look down on him because he was half-blood, they looked _up _to him because he able to take any of them in fair or unfair battle, and because the fact that he stood more than a head over each of them _demanded _they gaze upwards.

He'd found his old clan and his brother the servants of an orc war lord who had killed their father and mother and spared Turk to act as something of a jester, and a slave.

Thokk had attempted to take control of the entire horde from that orc war lord and failed. He had however taken a small band of rebels off in search of a place to recuperate and build up his power to return and destroy the being who'd murdered his parents and shamed his brother.

And so Thokk had been led from the untamed regions near Amn all the way to his current location. He didn't know what land he was in, all he knew was that the town sitting near the center of the lush green woods would be a perfect place to build his empire.

He'd avoided entering the woods. The humans likely knew the surrounding terrain and if they had wizards of rangers among them they would know the instant his horde moved to attack. Instead Thokk had sent scouts, and raiding parties to stop any carvans headed towards or from the small town.

His latest scouting patrol had failed to report back and so he had sent his finest hunter, Baggi, and a cadre of his bravest warriors to find them. The news Baggi, the large female orc armed with a massive bow, and a truly tremendous looking cudgel, brought him was bad.

"Do you know _what_ killed them?" Thokk demanded

"Mans I think." Baggi said.

Thokk, having received an education in Amn and having little to work with anyway believed that an individual should be appointed according to ability rather than gender, but even he couldn't hold back a scowl of "Stupid she-orc!"

He clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration and said "Take some rest, when you are prepared enter the woods again with three others. Find for me a human of the town for every member of our Horde that was killed, no bring me two humans extra. Bring them to me unharmed and unspoiled, I will use them to send a message to the human town."

Baggi nodded, though Thokk may have spoken too long Baggi generally seemed to have a better head for recalling lengthy instructions, which to an orc seemed sometimes to be anything more longer than "kill now" or "no kill."

He turned to his brother and said "I want you to go with them when they leave."

Turk nodded, "I go."

"If you can, brother, see to it that the prisoners you bring back are children. But the moment you encounter organized resistance withdraw, I do not want this attempt at education becoming a slaughter."

"Turk understands." Turk nodded. Thokk loathed it when his brother referred to himself in the third person.

But Turk lacked his level of intelligence, was in fact stupid even by orc standards, more than anything Thokk was giving him this job to make him feel important, he knew Baggi already knew to leave if they encountered strong resistance, and Thokk didn't really care if children were the order of the day.

Though when he killed four of the five prisoners and sent the fifth back with word of what he'd done, the villagers were far more likely to fear and be driven to anger if the victims were children.

Thokk wanted them to be driven to attack him, to gather themselves together and come out of their walled town, out of their forest where he could take them on a field of his choosing. If they would not he would continue to block off all convoys and see who snapped first.

He did not want to have to lead his horde into the men's forest to fight them on their terms, but he would.

He also did not want to remain in the open so long that the human village's neighbors could rally an army to remove him, and he knew that was very likely to be the cause of action once word spread that he'd taken up residence in the area, after all a horde of nearly two hundred and fifty orcs along with accompanying mates and offspring was not exactly easy to hide.

But if word of a nearby well populated goblin warren was accurate Thokk could round up some new recruits. He'd put his second in command, a shaman named Torga in charge of ascertaining the likelihood of obtaining voluntary cooperation from the goblins, what it would cost them and whether the actual number of little green beasts was worth the trouble.

And he had no time to waste, though he was a patient half-orc and though he was willing to take his time in conquering the town he knew that the legion he'd left behind and the orc chief whom he planned to take his revenge on could very well be in pursuit of him. He knew just from the trouble it had been to move his clan that moving a force large enough to eliminate them would take time and be extremely difficult, it might even weaken the orc chief's home territory which no Horde Master wants.

Thokk was sure that he was safe for the time being, but his enemy could still pursue him. After all Thokk had only taken roughly a third of that one's horde with him when he left, and it had been assembled for a reason, of that Thokk was sure.

Blood Gut the Brave would be wanting his warriors back, and to get them he'd have to come for Thokk.

Thokk scowled and looked off towards the horizon in the direction of Amn. Blood Gut, or Bloody Guts as Thokk called him, would have to travel through Amn to get Thokk, and hopefully the people of Amn would give Bloody Guts and his horde even more trouble than they'd given Thokk and his.

With any luck if that orc and his horde came marching over the horizon Thokk could meet them from the relative safety of a well walled town. And if that army never came Thokk could use that town as the foundation of his own territory, perhaps built a large tower in the center of the town so that he could survey the surrounding countryside, know when enemies, orc or man came to march against him.

Level much of the forest and build a region round about of dead land so that any who attacked his town, Thokk Town, would have to cross perhaps a mile of wide open space at the mercy of his archers.

The young war chief thought these things to himself and allowed himself to be swept away gazing at the horizon daring enemies to march against him, daring Bloody Guts and his horde to come once he took control of that town.

Once he took control of that town.

* * *

Mary leaned against the door frame as Handan tightened his boot straps and threw his quiver over his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going, brat?" She demanded of him, though he was in truth only two years her junior.

"I'm going to the edge of the wood. I want to see these orcs that keep killing father's animal companions. As a ranger you should want that as well, don't you?" Handan asked her with a raised eyebrow.

The young woman frowned. Her mentor, Holdan had taught her a great deal and one of the things he'd taught her was to see things through the eyes of an animal when dealing with them and treat them as your closest friends even before befriending them, then like family once you had.

And Mary knew she'd set out to punish anyone who harmed _her _family or friends. In a sense the orcs had done just that in killing the animals of the forest.

The ranger shrugged and said "You're just an apprentice, not even a true ranger. The gods, not to mention your father, would punish me if I let you go alone."

Han rolled his eyes, he probably planned on her coming the whole time. "I'll meet you by the gate in ten minutes." He said.

"Set off without me if you like, I'd be ashamed of myself if I couldn't catch up to a novice like you." Mary scoffed and set off to quickly gather her things.

She rather wanted to see these orcs for herself as well.


	17. Captured

**Chapter Eight**

**Part II**

Rilian frowned at the ugly little duergar.

At least he thought the dwarf ugly, but he though everything not drow or made by drow hands to be unsightly. Duergar weapons, while effective were still horrid little monstrosities.

He thought to the dagger Tak had given him and found himself missing it.

Not because he could use it to fight for freedom, though he was bored enough to try at this point, but rather because in his current state it would be all he would have to remember her.

He could just see her now, lying on his bed as she had the night of the battle with Sh'tok . . . only this time she would wait for a return that would not come.

It made him sad to think that he might be causing her unhappiness. It was a strange way to feel.

"Ye sure seem distracted, drow." Khondar commented.

Rilian did not answer; instead, he went back to frowning at the duergar. He told himself he would escape . . . he would find Tak.

If she were to go to the academy, he supposed he would have until she returned to get himself home. That was plenty of time. He would find a way. He was an elf, a drow elf; he would live for hundreds of years.

What was a decade or two?

"Now I don't expect ye to become a smith, even I ain't that sadistic," Khondar told him, "but ye are going to earn yer keep. So tell me boy, what talents have ye got?"

"I am a fantastic liar." Rilian said without thinking about it.

"Useful skills." The dwarf sighed.

"I was only trained to fight," Rilian scoffed, "beyond that I know little that you would find useful."

"Why do ye think I'd find your fighting skills useful, drow?" Khondar asked.

"Do not be a fool. Together you and I could brave the Underdark, reach Ched Nasad and go our separate ways. From there we can both arrange for transport to our homes." Rilian said.

He said it without conviction. He knew Khondar would refuse.

But if he did not keep asking it was likely that the gray dwarf would realize that he was still thinking of real ways to escape.

"Lad, I left the Underdark of me own accord to join with this clan. Mayhaps you can find yourself a clan of surface elves to join."

"Perhaps you can be silent!" Rilian hissed, "For you to even suggest such a disgusting act--"

"Enough." Khondar waved his had away, "I'll not hear your fuss."

"It is not fuss, it is a fact that the surface elves would kill me as soon as look at me, and they would be right to do so because I most certainly would kill them given ample opportunity. Perhaps the dwarf races live well together, but elves do not." Rilian shook his head; he just wanted to go home.

Menzoberrranzan was a dangerous place, any day he could die there, but there was some good to it.

His family was there, safety, as he knew it existed there, and Tak was there.

Yes, his last true friend in the world was there. It occurred to him that if Tak were with him now he might not actually _care _if he was Khondar's slave forever, the duergar treated him rather well actually, much better than he or any or drow would treat their slaves.

He wanted to take revenge on Ascord though, he had not forgotten that.

Yes . . . and he wanted to become a great Weapons Master. There was more waiting for him in Menzoberranzan than just Tak.

Yet odd as it felt to realize it he knew that if he could only have one thing it would be to have Tak with him now. In part to know that she was safe, in part so that she would know he was safe. It was driving him mad, she was out of reach now and he knew he could be reunited with her if he had patience.

And yet what if he was? What if they were together again after fifty years?

She would be a priestess, perhaps a high priestess of Lolth, and he would be a warrior, perhaps a Weapons Master, he would always be her inferior and the higher she climbed on the power ladder the less interested in him she would be.

She might care whether he was dead or alive now, but in a few years she would not. She would have no need, no reason to. Would she still be his friend when she could call on Demons to do her fighting for her? Was she even his friend now, or was he just an alliance to her?

He closed his eyes but Khondar slammed a fist on the table in front of him, "Attention lad!" Khondar shouted, "Ye need a skill to contribute to the community."

Rilian shrugged. "I have no skills. If I dared to offer a term of service as a warrior in exchange for my freedom and the return of my belongings no doubt I would be seen as a threat to public safety."

Khondar shook his head, "Very well then. Ye will have to aid me."

"That was your intention all the while." Rilian scoffed.

"Aye, but I had to let ye reach it on your own. Otherwise ye might think I was forcing ye." the Gray dwarf smiled.

"You are not?" Rilian raised an eyebrow. It was a trait he had picked up on the surface, it bothered him that he had picked it up so quickly.

Of course it was entirely possible that that raising his eyebrow was something he had always done and he had simply not noticed before. Raising of eyebrows was not a terribly common trait to races that relied on darkvision.

"Aye lad, I'm not to be forcing you to do anything. Ye won't _learn _if ye have to be forced."

"Oh good." Rilian said, he sat down against a wall, leaned back and pretended to snore.

The dwarf lightly kicked his leg, "Get ye up!"

Rilian sighed, "You said I would not be forced to help."

"Ye _will_ be forced to keep awake." The duergar admitted. "Now bring me those scrolls and quills."

"Not a hammer and a slab of metal?" Rilian asked.

"I'm not a smith, not every dwarf is. I am a recorder, I record history of this town, the clans, I keep records and I write letters to our neighbors."

"How could I possibly assist with that?" Rilian scoffed.

"I just telled ye to bring me some things, do that. I'll be calling for a lot of things boy, ye'll be getting your exercise."

"I am overwhelmed with joy." Rilian said sarcastically.

* * *

Mary leapt over a small creek and heard Handan splash into it, not quite making the leap himself.

She smirked. "Keep up little boy!"

"Shut your face old woman!" Handan called after her.

Mary stopped, holding her hand out so that Handan didn't run past her, "Good advice for the both of us, we're being much too loud." She whispered.

"You started it." Handan said, but the ranger wasn't about to get into a childish argument over who's fault their banter was.

Though she would have argued that _he'd_ started it with his splashing about, or his shout of 'about time' when she'd first caught up to him.

She moved quietly into the bushes and Handan followed, making a slight noise but still she supposed he'd been quiet enough.

She drew her bow and waited in silence.

It didn't take long for a trio of orcs to stumble onto the path Mary and Handan had left.

One of them, a particularly ugly female carrying a huge club looked around and sniffed the youths' tracks.

Mary scowled; she hadn't expected the orcs to be _in _the woods so she hadn't been very careful about not leaving a trail to follow. Handan had been leaving her a trail so that she could find him; neither of them had tried to be very stealthy.

The orcs, if they had any sense and tracking skill at all would find their trail, realize where it ended and start looking for them.

They would have to strike first.

Mary drew her bow back, eyes focusing on the farthest orc she fired and quickly drew her short sword.

Handan fired an arrow too, but missed. He fumbled for his sword as the two surviving orcs charged at them; Mary leapt out of the bushes and swept out with her sword only to be deflected by the male orc. The female raised her club and the ranger threw herself back out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed.

She heard the rushing footsteps of still more orcs. She looked and Handan, hiding in the bushes and mouthed for him to stay hidden.

She spun around as another orc appeared, tried to stab him but found her blade deflected.

She turned and sprinted off in the direction opposite of Handan and the village, running at her top speed in the woods, still the orcs were not far behind her.

They shouted at each other in their rough dialect, there were three of them chasing her.

She hoped that Handan could get back to the village without running into a fourth.

* * *

Handan waited in silence as Mary fought the orcs for seconds that felt like centuries, and then to his surprise she ran.

She wasn't running away and leaving him to die, she was leading them away, and he knew that.

He knew she was trying to see him spared, trying to give him a chance to get back to the village.

But he didn't care, coming out had been his idea; he wouldn't let her suffer because of him.

He drew back his bow taking careful aim at the trailing third orc and fired. The pig faced monster roared in pain as an arrow sank into his right calf, Handan reached for another arrow and took careful aim at the female who'd stopped chasing Mary and turned to look at her companion.

He was about to fire when suddenly a large gloved hand reached into the bush and grasped his arrow, it belonged to a rather tall orc who's other hand reached for Handan's throat.

The boy released the bow and reached for his sword but the orc was faster, his heavy arm swung back, knocking Handan into a nearby tree.

The orc took a rope and bound Handan's arms and legs together, the injured male limped over to them but the female it seemed had gone after Mary again.

Handan grunted as the tall orc, a half-orc he realized, lifted him into the air and threw him to the ground roughly, he groaned in pain and the injured orc kicked him in the stomach with a metal boot.

The boy groaned and the half-orc picked him up again, this time he held onto him and carried him towards the forest's edge, no doubt to the orc camp.

Not at all the way the young man had thought he'd meet his end.

* * *

Baggi lumbered through the woods, she heard one of her orcs scream and glanced back at him, an arrow sticking out of his leg.

She paused to consider this . . . how did that get there?

She spotted Thokk's brother close in on a bush, the same bush the human girl had leap out of and there was a shout, a human shout.

That explained it; Baggi turned and sprinted on after her original quarry.

She could see Yom just ahead of her, hot on the human girl's heels.

The female human ran like the wind, Baggi would never catch her, but if she didn't bring back a prisoner Thokk might make his brother the leader of the next hunt and leave Baggi demoted and humiliated.

The she-orc's brain worked hard to find a solution, she thought until her head hurt. Humans were so fragile . . . too much damage and they would just die . . . Thokk didn't want a dead human . . . but . . . sometimes they took a long time to die, would he want a dying prisoner? No . . .

The human could run for who knew how long, and Baggi would tire soon, her comrade in front was already tiring.

The she-orc hated to admit she'd been beaten, so she didn't. To her slow mind this meant that she hadn't been beaten, somehow the human would fall into her hands. But she didn't know how, all she knew was that at this point would trade her comrade's life if that human girl could be captured.

That was exactly when the human girl tripped over something, Baggi howled with relief her comrade roared with excitement.

The human girl had been holding her sword, she swung up as the other orc closed on her, leaving a bloody gash across his chest that would hurt but not kill him.

He reached for her head, she ran him through with her blade and he fell on her.

His massive bulk kept the human girl from running away, and his fall plunged her sword deeper into his body so that she wouldn't be able to retrieve it.

Baggi smirked an orcish smirk. She jogged over and shoved her dying comrade off the human youth, happy to have her prisoner.

The human however seemed to have taken a knife from her fallen comrade, she swung out and Baggi didn't manage to get back in time, a bloody red line appeared on her left forearm.

Enraged she punched the human girl in the face and broke her right arm like a twig, after killing two of her orcs and leading Baggi herself on a mad chase how dare she resist any further.

Baggi decided to break the girl's other arm just to be safe, the human's screams were deafening, and the she-orc worried that someone was bound to hear and come to investigate, after all these two humans might not be the only ones in these woods.

She tied the girl's legs and grasped her roughly by the arms; throwing her legs over her shoulder she carried her quarry back to the war camp, ignoring her comrade's dying groans.

She had been willing to trade his life for the prisoner's capture, now she had the prisoner; it was a clear gift from Gruumsh. She worried that if she did anything to help the other orc Gruumsh might take his gift away.

And if she did anything to speed his death she'd only be wasting time and increasing the chances of being caught by the humans. The human on her back had quieted; perhaps she'd passed out from the pain. Perhaps she died.

One could never tell with humans, such fragile creatures.

In any event Baggi ran with her catch for the camp.

* * *

The Shaman Torga smiled, his grizzled old face was even more frightening when he grinned.

Thokk's terms had been delivered and accepted, the goblin clan, which had recently suffered some sort of hardships, would join with the horde and even give them a place of refuge if Thokk wanted it.

But best o all was the information they'd given Torga about the cause of their struggle.

Apparently a clan of gray dwarves and a slaving group of drow had come through, fought a battle that killed more of the goblins than either dwarves or elves. The dwarves had gone to pursue the fleeing drow so they were gone now, but this entire region might be a lot more dangerous than Thokk knew.

Or it might be a lot more profitable. If a bargain could be reached with the drow or the gray dwarves the human town would fall without trouble, and indeed even Blood Gut's horde would stand little chance against the separatists under Thokk's control.


	18. Lost Prince

**Chapter Nine**

**Insurrection**

The mercenaries had been wandering the halls of the G'kar compound looking like any other soldiers of the clan but in truth they were both members of the illustrious Bregan D'aerthe.

Tak'hera did not seem at all impressed.

She got them to follow her easily enough, though she was still somewhat young for Enialis' tastes females her age were prone to exploring their sexuality with many different partners and this was no doubt exactly what the mercenaries thought would happen when she flirtatiously approached them, grabbed the arm of one and making a "come with me" motion with her finger, she led them away to her bed chambers.

What the two mercenaries actually got was far removed from copulation with a flirty princess, as soon as the door was closed and locked Enialis appeared, deactivating his ring of invisibility, both swords in hand he stood between the two mercenaries and the door.

Takira's eyes flared with a violent purple light and both mercenaries fell to their knees, but Enialis didn't take any aggressive steps towards them, letting Takira exert her will over them.

"I want to see your leader, Jarlaxle." She said harshly.

"Impossible." The soldier grunted.

"It is not wise to refuse me. You will let your master know that Takira Do'Urden wishes to speak with him, or else inform his Lieutenant Dinin Do'Urden that his daughter _demands _his presence."

"Impossible!" The same soldier protested, Takira swept a hand out and the soldier flew backwards, slamming into the wall, she approached the second soldier.

"Do not make the mistake of assuming I care about your life, do not think that I fear the reprisals of your master," The girl's violet eyes were burning with magical energy, she looked almost terrifying to Enialis, who stood on her side in this matter, he could only guess how their victim saw her. "I want to speak to Jarlaxle, or to my father Dinin. You will bring them to me and I will pay you, or you will die now and I will find someone else."

Enialis frowned because suddenly he got a strong impression that Takira was lying.

She talked the talk of a High Priestess, maybe even a Matron Mother, but would she walk the walk? Somehow Enialis got the very strong feeling that if anyone were going to kill these two mercenaries it'd have to be him.

"I cannot-please!" The mercenary cried when Takira's eyes flared with rage, "They are not here!"

"Obviously they are not in the compound or I would have spoken to them myself." Takira hissed.

"No, mistress, no, they are not in the city!" The mercenary pleaded.

Takira was silent for a moment then she said "I see you are not lying, but rather than force me to find the answer myself simply tell me . . . where are they?"

The soldier shuddered, "I-I do not know." He said, glancing at his friend, slumped against the wall.

Takira smiled fiendishly, "Would he?" She asked.

The mercenary nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes, let me go, you can just ask him."

"Silence!" Takira snapped, "I will "ask" him but if he does not have the answers I seek you both die."

The adolescent female sauntered over to the unconscious mercenary, and gently placed her hands on either side of his face. She closed her eyes, Enialis kept one eye on her and the other on the mercenary who seemed to have just enough courage to glance at Takira, fear in his eyes though his face was an emotionless mask.

Enialis saw the mercenary draw a dagger and rise as if he meant to spring on Takira, but before Enialis could intercept him Takira, without breaking her concentration on her current victim swept a hand out and the mercenary slumped to his knees, dropping the dagger.

Takira seemed to concentrate for a moment longer, then she said "It is your lucky day, your companion here knows an awful lot, but more importantly he knows what I wanted to know, and so despite your rebellious nature you both may live."

The girl stood up and held her hand out towards the first mercenary, who fell to the ground.

"What was that?" Enialis asked.

"Well I did not want them remembering this, obviously." Takira shrugged. "They will wake in an hour or so with severe headaches and a strong impression that I am a sexual dynamo."

"Had to embellish, did you?" Enialis laughed.

"I _am _only a child," Takira smiled, "these are important years for building my self esteem. Be happy, I could have left them with the impression that _you _were the one who-"

"That's enough," Enialis said, raising a hand to silence her lest she finish planting the disturbing image in his mind, "what did you learn?"

"What does it matter to you?" Takira scoffed.

"I have grown . . . shall we say "interested" in this whole ordeal."

Takira nodded slightly, "Very well . . . I have learned that Jarlaxle, and, to the best of this mercenary's knowledge, my father have gone off in search of Drizzt Do'Urden, do you know him?"

"How can anyone not?" Enialis laughed, "Have you been under a rock your whole life?"

"I know _of _him," Takira laughed, "do you _know _him. What is he like? Could he be of use to me?"

"In restoring house Do'Urden? I very much doubt it." Enialis shrugged, "He is the reason the original House Do'Urden was wiped out after all . . . the main reason at least. He caused them to lose favor with the Spider Queen, he survived in the Underdark for ten years and is now suspected to reside with the dwarves of Mithril Hall."

Takira nodded slightly, "We may be united in our common distaste for Lolth . . . he is a Do'Urden, I want to meet him."

"He will not return to this city, even if he did he would not last long." Enialis shrugged.

Takira folded her arms, "My father is away . . . this gives me time to prepare, when Rilian returns he and I will find my father and my uncle. We will restore Do'Urden even if it must be under the name of G'kar."

Enialis frowned at her, "You are probably winning favor for your ambition and the mischief you cause, but do you really think the Spider Queen will favor you if you not only bring Drizzt back here, but offer him sanctuary?"

"I could care less about the Spider Queen's favor." Takira scoffed.

"Her favor is all that keeps any of us alive, if you were lacking it Qillathe would have killed you by now."

"She would have tried." Takira shrugged, "I need no gods or goddesses."

Enialis wasn't a prophet of Lolth so he saw no reason to try to press the spider worship on Takira, though her blatant disrespect for Lolth combined with her continued survival was an enigma to him he supposed Lolth must have some sort of future plans for the girl.

Maybe this insurrection of Takira's and not Qillathe's was meant to succeed, maybe Do'Urden, under the name of G'kar or not, was meant to become a power again.

Or maybe Lolth, in all her delicious cruelty would let Takira get just close enough to her goals to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and then take everything the girl sought and place it just out of her reach right before the loyal Lolthites destroyed Takira along with the rest of the rogue Do'Urden clan.

Enialis knew that if Lolth turned on Takira his own survival could be at stake, and Takira wasn't taking any measures to ensure that her current favored status with the Spider Queen continued past the given moment.

But then Lolth was chaos itself, her favor was guaranteed to no one past any given moment so maybe Takira just knew something Enialis didn't. Still he frowned, "You will not get far in life if you ignore Lolth completely, even the greatest of Lolth's unfaithful pay lip service, the Spider Queen doesn't tolerate outright defiance or sacrilege."

Takira smiled slightly, "Perhaps Lolth tolerates me because she knows that I will bring her children her favorite dish; chaos. Do you think I will settle for the mere restoration of Do'Urden? I will restore it and take House Do'Urden to the top within a decade . . . her favor won't save her children, not from me, I will crush anyone in my way and they will sacrifice entire households to her wondering why it does not aid them better." Her eyes seemed to glow with ambition, Enialis turned away from her.

"That kind of chaos might pull worshipers away from Lolth. She would not want that."

"Well who can say what the Spider Queen wants? All I know is what I want, what I can do."

"You cannot lead a royal house, you are not a Matron Mother, you are not even a High Priestess." Enialis pointed out.

"No . . . but I will wager that I can kill one."

"I would take that wager," Enialis said, Takira just laughed. "You really think, when all the loyal turn on you that the paltry force of House G'kar can keep you safe? Do you think your ability would stop the assassins they would send for you?"

Takira smiled, "I think if the Spider Queen's hateful little slaves try to stop me I will make them pay for their stupidity."

"War on an entire city when you are a single untrained adolescent girl is the only stupidity I am hearing." Enialis cautioned. "I would rather not see you dead, girl. You have potential but you are decidedly overconfident."

Takira shrugged, "We will see."

"Yes, I hope we survive to do so." Enialis said. "I do not think you really understand just how quickly mortality can catch up to you. When you find a sword in your stomach you might wish you had done some things differently."

Takira's eyes blazed, "I have seen mortality catch up to me, you were there that night my mother was murdered."

"Actually she was sacrificed." Enialis corrected, "The priestess offered her up to Lolth, if she was loyal she is enjoying the afterlife right now, I am sure."

Takira's eyes began to glow dangerously, "She was murdered and with her died any devotion I might have felt for the Spider Queen. Now if you do not mind, I believe our presence is required by Matron Talia."

Enialis was less than surprised when suddenly there came a knock on Takira's door.

Takira opened it up and a female guard entered, "My lady, the Matron Mother expects you in the chapel."

Takira smiled, "Very well. Oh, and please clean up my little mess, will you?" Takira waved her hands towards the two unconscious Began D'aerthe mercenaries masquerading as guards.

The guard bowed her head slightly and Takira tilted her head, indicating that Enialis should follow her.

He watched Takira walk, not quite sure what to make of her. She seemed clever most of the time, she was clearly very powerful . . . and she was dancing a dangerous dance with the Queen of the Drow.

On a whim Lolth could destroy Takira and all of House G'kar, did Takira really believe she could compare herself to that sort of power? At first he had thought it interesting, now it was tiresome, he felt centuries beyond his age when he dealt with this girl.

And _why _did Lolth, who could read the hearts and minds of all Drow tolerate the girl's constant blasphemy?

Enialis decided not to think about it the "why" of it too much, instead he'd just try to keep himself alive if Takira should fall prey to her own stupidity.

* * *

Takira felt energy pouring through her as she quickstepped through the halls of the G'kar compound towards the throne room. It seemed like the more she used her abilities the stronger they became, and by the time she reached the chamber doors she was convinced that she was not even remotely winded from her encounter with the two mercenaries, though it had seemed tiring at the time.

She smiled at first then immediately hesitated when she saw who was inside the room.

Qillathe, Borrakul . . . And Sivar?

"The raiding party has returned?" She asked excitedly, surprised that she hadn't sensed them. She supposed she had been rather distracted hunting down those mercenaries.

Matron Talia nodded slowly, Takira skipped into the room trying to be her cheerful self but she was becoming more and more aware that Rilian was not present.

She reached Matron Talia's throne and sidled up next to the old Matron, looking down on Sivar who was prostrating herself before the Matron Mother.

_Where is Rilian? _Takira wondered, but thought she should not ask in the middle of what seemed to be Sivar's report. Rilian was probably already in his room, she would go and see him as soon as the meeting concluded.

Matron Talia gazed at her adopted daughter and then returned her gaze to Sivar.

"Tak'hera my pet, as you can see your elder sister has returned."

"Yes mother." Takira said breezily, "What are the spoils?" She asked.

Sivar scowled, "How dare you-"

"Do not snap at her, sister!" Qillathe barked, "The child asked a simple question, do not lash out because of your own inadequacies."

Inadequacies?

Takira felt an odd emotion come over her as she devoted as much of her focus as she dared to finding Rilian's mind whilst remaining conversational in Talia's presence. He was not in his room . . . and he was not in the room of that female lieutenant . . . he was not with Ascord . . .

She swallowed audibly and as Sivar made an insincere apology and continued to report to the Matron Mother.

"A clan of Duergar ambushed us and-"

"Where is Rilian?" Takira dared.

"Quiet child." Talia said, waving a dismissing hand.

She was not being harsh but she also was not answering the question and that angered Takira.

Like the spoiled child she knew she was she stomped her foot, "Where is Rilian?" She demanded, "I cannot find him."

"Where have you looked?" Borrakul asked dryly, then he raised an eyebrow.

Takira realized her eyes were blazing and she fought to keep her temper down.

Very calmly she asked again, "Where is Rilian?"

"He is not important." Talia said.

"Then why not simply tell me and be done with it?" Takira snapped.

"You disrespectful-" Sivar began, Takira sensed she was trying to use her outburst to gain favor in Talia's eyes by playing a dutiful daughter.

Sivar said more but Takira was knocked back by the realization that she could sense Sivar's mind, there was no protection.

Takira glared at Sivar and began searching. She did not bother to be subtle and Sivar noticed.

"What are you-" Sivar demanded but then she was thrown back and slid across the floor grasping her head.

"_Ssindossa_." Takira whispered coldly and walked for the exit.

"What are you doing?" Talia snapped, "I have not dismissed you, child!"

"I have things to do." Takira said sharply, "If you wish Sivar go on living I must not be in her vicinity much longer."

"You _dare _threaten a priestess of the Spider Queen?" Sivar roared, but Takira could hear the fear in her voice.

Qillathe spoke up, "Sister, you really should remain a bit longer. You will want to be here for this . . . _I _would like you to be here for this."

"Of course." Takira said acidly.

She spotted Enialis tense, and then she realized what was about to happen.

She sighed, she would have to find Rilian later.

Lolth help Sivar if her fears were confirmed. Lolth help every soul who had gone on the raiding party, for they would all share in the blame and Takira would find out just how much her power truly had grown.

She had only glimpsed in Sivar's mind the vaguest hints or Rilian's fate and she had turned away from the answer . . . she did not know why. It was as if she had been reading a scroll and had read the first half of a word and guessed the rest of it but told herself that she had misread it, that if she looked again the word would be entirely different.

But she feared the proverbial word and she told herself it could not be so.

Somehow she believed that she would have _felt _it if he had died . . . she would have known if _her _Rilian had fallen.

Her chest felt tight and she felt her body begin to threaten hyperventilation, but she forced herself to remain calm and stand dutifully by her Matron. She stayed out of Sivar's mind.

She had felt something like this when her mother had been murdered . . . but she refused to believe that Rilian could possibly be gone forever . . . not when she was so close to finding her father and achieving her dreams. Somehow the idea that Rilian would be by her side through it all had never come into question.

Strangely she found herself realizing that she was not as powerful as she suspected; Lolth would never spare a second thought to the missing prince, but Takira could think of nothing else.


	19. Ascension

**Chapter Nine**

**Part II**

Qillathe felt her heart racing. Though she was hiding it well Matron Talia was no doubt growing more and more irritated by Sivar's report and Qillathe didn't blame her.

Surely her mother did not realize what Qillathe meant to do. If she did Sivar would be dead, she couldn't know that Qillathe had sent word to her mercenaries and her loyal the moment Sivar arrived at the compound.

Qillathe knew this was her moment, her time had come . . . she would ascend the throne today, and though Sivar's survival was unexpected it was not so much as a kink in her plan.

The young High Priestess listened as Sivar recounted how they had gone to the goblin camp as ordered, how they had raided it and how at first it had seemed to be going well.

And finally the old Matron stood up, interrupting her daughter.

"Do you understand what I sent you to do, Sivar?" Talia asked coldly.

"I was to bring back slaves, goblins . . ." Sivar said, sounding uncertain.

So she _was _smart enough to realize that that was not the true purpose of the mission.

Qillathe smiled and stood forward, "It hardly matters, Matron, what you intended her to do. Your plan failed. You left it in incapable hands and here see the result; your daughter returns without Lolth's favor, your youngest son is murdered by Duergar, or worse by goblins. Your Weapons Master retreats in disgrace, _you _Matron, are sure to suffer the Spider Queen's wrath and you will certainly bring it down on us all!"

Talia should have leapt out of her throne in a rage, but instead she gave Qillathe a very amused smile.

Was she acknowledging her daughter's triumph over her or did the wily old Matron have something up her sleeve?

"That was quite the tirade, my child." Talia said calmly, "I daresay it sounds almost rehearsed."

Qillathe scowled, "My Matron you surely jest. Do you suggest that I _enjoy_ the peril of my own House? _You _failed us with your madness, what fool sends a small raiding party far out of the way for slaves?"

"What fool indeed." Talia said coldly.

Now she stood up, and she said "A sacrifice needed to be made. That was always the true object. Rilian needed to be done away with, he was a disappointment, he was inferior to his brothers. I could not trust it to Sivar alone she would never understand the intricacies," Talia said and Qillathe noted Takira tense and the fury in the child's eyes, it was mad but the High Priestess felt that even if her mother was seizing the upper hand she might still have a chance if all of Takira's boasts had been true.

But Talia smiled at Qillathe, "I needed you, silly girl, to ensure your brother's death. I knew that if I sent my own supporters away you would have your own people there to ambush them. K'ral was meant to protect Sivar and Sivar alone, everyone else was simply an option for you to pursue in the murder of your brother, Qillathe."

Qillathe shuddered, "This is insanity, why would you risk so much for so little gain?"

"Because it needed to be done!" Talia snapped, "And it needed to be done far away from the child-"

"I am no child!" Takira hissed.

"Indeed, you are quite the young lady now. That is why you will be preparing to attend the academy this eve, my dear. You will accept Lolth tonight, Tak'hera G'kar."

* * *

Enialis tensed, Takira wasn't going to wait any longer, and he knew it.

The girl was already volatile over Matron Talia's blatant admission not only of Rilian's fate but her desire for it. Now to try to finally force Lolth on the child . . .

In truth it made no sense, why wait? What was Talia doing?

Takira whispered, "For several years now, Matron, your son Rilian was my _sole _reason for serving you. He is gone and I will take my leave."

"You will do no such thing you silly girl, now pray to the Spider Queen and give her thanks for your life."

Takira didn't move. Talia tilted her head and two large female guards rushed for the girl, Takira gave Enialis a look that seemed caught halfway between questioning and accusing.

_Sorry, _he thought, _I tried to warn you._

Talia smiled and said "Tak'hera, my clever daughter . . . I am aware of your . . . inappropriate affection for Rilian. That was why he needed to be removed. A priestess must be above such attachments, and you must recall that since you are my daughter he was your brother."

Takira watched the Matron and said nothing, Enialis recognized all the classic signs of suppressed panic, he'd seen them so many times in his victims.

_Just play along with it, it is not the end of the world. _Enialis thought, removing his ring so that she would hear the thoughts if she were listening. Devotion to Lolth was not so bad.

Talia reached into the sleeve of her violet robe and produced a long wickedly curved dagger. She smiled at Takira and said, "This would have plunged into your heart for your blasphemy so many times before. You are useful to me, however and you must continue to be useful to me."

Takira opened her mouth to speak but Talia slapped her before she could utter a word; "An obedient child does not interrupt."

Enialis could almost feel the mixture of rage and fear from Takira, the girl was trembling in the grip of the guards that held her.

Talia smiled almost sweetly and placed the dagger against the girl's chest, Enialis tensed, he had no intention of saving the girl but all the same this would be a bit harder to watch than a stranger being sacrificed.

"Praise Lolth." Talia said very firmly.

Takira smiled almost sinisterly, "I am not the sacrifice you meant to make, nor was Rilian."

"That, child, is not what I want to hear from you. Your childhood is long since over, stupidity is no forgivable trait. Now . . ."

Takira nodded slightly, "Praise . . . Lolth . . ." she said the deity's name as if it pained her to speak it, but she had said it, and Enialis dared to relax a bit.

"Very good." Talia said softly, then raked the dagger downward across Takira's abdomen.

She cut the child's fanciful robe open, and the guards tore it away, tossing the girl roughly to the floor.

A lower priestess hurried into the room a familiar bundle of clothing in her arms.

Talia took the initiate robes and threw them to Takira, "Get dressed then, in the garments of your goddess and prepare for you depart to the academy this eve."

Takira, reduced to undergarments made no move to retrieve the clothes. Surprisingly, at least to Enialis Qillathe moved as if to assist her, until Talia snapped at her, "Stop! You are not forgiven, girl!"

Qillathe seemed surprised, Talia's guards now seized her.

"Matron, what exactly is the meaning-"

"Silence! You think I do not know what you have done to the house coffers? You think I have no idea what a clan of Duergar were doing on the surface? You take me for a fool when I have already told you that I engineered your every opportunity?"

Qillathe shook her head, "Matron be reasonable-"

"You call me a failure but it is you who have failed your ultimate test. You have failed to ascend, Qillathe."

Qillathe's eyes hardened, "Do not be so certain, Matron."

Enialis' eyes darted to Takira who had risen to her feet. She held the robes of Lolth but had not put them on, she clutched the pale fabric as if she meant to tare the robe apart, her eyes glowing fiercely.

Talia laughed maniacally, "Qillathe, do you know whom I meant to sacrifice?"

Qillathe did not hide her fear nearly as well as Takira had, but though her fear was evident she still spoke with forced confidence, "You will not kill me, I am a High Priestess and in Lolth's favor, I would not be an acceptable sacrifice."

"Indeed. Who spoke of killing you?"

Takira stretched forth her hand, Talia, too slowly turned to see what was happening.

In a flash, the rebellion was on.

The two guards holding Qillathe seized in pain falling to the floor. The High Priestess, realizing her good fortune tore her serpent whip from her belt and lashed out, forcing Talia to leap back with surprising grace.

The lower priestess in the room rushed to her Matron's aid, but Takira leapt on her, grasping a handful of stark white hair the younger female pulled the cleric's head back and then threw her to the hard floor of the chapel.

The chapel doors swung open and K'ral entered shouting, "There is fighting in the courtyard, we have been-" he stopped when he saw the madness in the room.

More guards rushed to the aid of Matron Talia, Sivar too made a move for Qillathe, no doubt seeing this as a chance to regain her mother's favor and that of the Spider Queen by eliminating her elder sister.

Enialis supposed he'd better do something, and when he saw the weapons master take the halberd from his back Enialis guessed that eliminating K'ral was about as useful as anything else he might try. He smirked as he replaced his ring on his hand for good measure and lunged for the fat drow.

* * *

Phelos leapt to her feet and swung her sword in one fluid motion, Ascord barely had time to blink when chaos broke out.

Inexplicably the guards fell upon one another and several rushed for him as well.

Wielding his newly won sword he cut down the first, and then deflected a bolt from a crossbow.

Whose side was he on? What was happening?

He chose to stay close to Phelos mostly because opposing her seemed the less sensible option; she cut through one fighter's sword arm, severing the limb and gashing the drow's face, Ascord rushed in and stabbed the warrior in the heart, seizing the sword he dropped along with the hand that held it.

A blade in each hand the muscular young drow set to work; he soon recognized a slight trend; Phelos was killing any soldier or guard she didn't recognize; the newly hired warriors and those who had been recruited from their now nameless defeated adversary.

And Ascord understood they had been infiltrated, surely by another house.

He felt an urge, he needed to go to the chapel.

"Phelos," He said to get the female's attention, "The Matron Mother! We must go to her defense!"

"You first!" She snarled at him and the pair of them rushed for the chapel, it wasn't a long trip; they'd been standing by in case they were needed by Sivar or K'ral as witnesses.

There was fighting in the halls, seven female guards stood before the doors of the chapel, an eighth had fallen.

The guards were cutting down anyone who got too close to them; they weren't letting anyone through, the fighting had gone on for several minutes and it'd be over soon-G'kar just didn't have that many soldiers-but Ascord wasn't about to just stand like a fool in the halls while battle raged.

He _needed _to get into that chapel, he didn't know why, really he didn't care if the nobility lived or died so long as he survived to take service under whoever won this little insurrection.

But for some reason he couldn't stop himself from charged headfirst into the seven females, he stabbed one of them in the stomach with Rilian's sword and deflected a blow from another with his more recently stolen blade.

"Are you mad?" Phelos screamed as the youth fought for his very life against six angry females.

Several fighters charged the remaining honor guard, Ascord was locked in battle with one of the larger females, she was a head taller than him.

She stabbed at him with her rapier and he deflected with his sword only to find her second rapier biting into his shoulder.

He kicked out for her knee and the expert fighter pulled the limb back out of his reach and thrust it forward again along with her boot, kicking him instead.

Ascord groaned, she'd aimed for his groin and while his light armor did cushion the blow it hurt nonetheless.

She raised her other blade to strike at him again and without his own thoughts to direct it his hand raised one of his swords-Rilian's-to deflect the blow, then forced his other hand to stab outward, cutting clean and deep into her breast.

It didn't kill her, but it caused her to fall back against the door screaming in pain.

Phelos finished her off though Ascord was surprised she'd come to his aid, he'd expected the veteran to leave him to his own fate and blame it on stupidity; it was what he would have done if their places were reversed.

He didn't know why he'd even attacked the guards except that not getting into that room seemed even less preferable.

And enter the room he did, along with a half dozen others who were probably enemies and the three surviving guards.

Ascord turned then, began to fight alongside the guards to keep the enemy out of the chapel; now that he was in there was no point angering the Matron.

But from the corner of his eye he saw the battle taking place in the chapel and he felt a wave of confusion wash over him.

Sivar was on the ground, she seemed unconscious but years of experience told Ascord she was not, she was simply staying out of the mayhem.

The mayhem caused by Qillathe and Matron Talia as they battled against each other like two demigoddesses, powerful spells flying back and forth between them so it was clear neither was out of Lolth's favor.

He saw Tak'hera backing away from a pair of female guards who, seeing the commotion entering the room forgot the girl and rushed to the battle.

Tak'hera's violet eyes locked onto Ascord and there was a sort of inquiry to them and he felt almost a sort of accusation.

But he felt an uncontrollable urge to go to her side and keep her safe, he couldn't even imagine not doing so.

Then he saw him; the young drow dressed in black studded leather armor wielding a longsword in one hand and a shortsword in the other as he fought viciously against a surprised looking K'ral.

"Rilian?" Ascord whispered in shock.

But he quickly shook it off; if Rilian was alive and had returned his days were numbered; but then when he looked closer he felt a strange sensation.

He felt relaxed-at least relatively so-because he knew that the older, taller and clearly more skilled male couldn't be Rilian. It was someone who looked similar, perhaps a cousin Ascord had not known of, perhaps a son of Qillathe since it seemed he was fighting for her side in this matter.

Ascord also knew that if anything he too should be fighting for Qillathe, after all she had ordered him to kill Rilian.

But he felt himself drawn to Tak'hera, even as an unknown fighter rushed to her aid as well.

A crossbow flew towards the girl, and though she wore no armor Tak'hera calmly raised her forearm and deflected the bolt.

Ascord spotted the one who had fired and quickly rushed the female guard.

She aimed her bow for another shot but she seized up, grasping her head instead.

Her crossbow fell to the floor and without thought Ascord picked it up, turned and fired towards Tak'hera who gently sidestepped so that the bolt sank into the neck of the priestess behind Tak'hera.

The priestess's face was covered in blood but there was no mistaking her intent towards a daughter of the noble family.

It was a frenzy, Ascord didn't know who was on which side or which side he was on himself.

But Tak'hera seemed to be the center of it all, and when the adolescent turned her brightly glowing gaze on the Matron and her eldest daughter a dozen crystals emerged from a pile of clothing on the ground that Ascord recognized as Tak'hera's own.

The multicolored gems took orbit around her and began to glow faintly.

Tak'hera thrust her hands out and Matron Talia was blown off her feet, her honor guard all stumbled and were set upon by the rebels.

Some of the stones clattered to the floor and Takira strode brazenly to Sivar, Ascord falling into step with her without even realizing it.

Sivar dared to look up from her prone state, then she looked to her mother.

Qillathe stood over the Matron laughing uncontrollably.

"I _adore _my little sister, mother. So kind of you to raise her up to aid in my glory."

"_Your _glory?" Tak'hera laughed.

Ascord suddenly found himself charging forward, he knocked Qillathe off of her feet and held his sword to her throat.

"What in the abyss are you doing?" Phelos shouted.

"My bidding." Tak'hera announced, "_My glory."_

_

* * *

_

_Note: I know, I know, this is way late, way overdue, I'm going to try to be more ontop of this story and this note will disappear when the next chapter comes up. But until then I just wanted those still reading to know that I appreciate your patience, even if at this point it's more like a passing curiosity._


	20. Decision

**Chapter Ten**

**Matron Mother**

Enialis could not believe what he was seeing.

Takira had gone mad; the plan was never to outright oppose Talia _and _Qillathe, but to throw the lot in with one or the other.

The girl was not even a priestess yet. She could not rule a noble house and Lolth would revoke her favor if one of her households were ruled by a sacrilegious adolescent using one of her High Priestesses as a puppet.

The Spider Queen could be unpredictable but she was not stupid.

The situation was out of control, Talia should have known better than to try to force anything on her adopted daughter when she was already volatile over losing her _abbil_.

To have Lolth suddenly forced on her at all, let alone like this must have been more than Takira could take. Enialis was sorely tempted to kill her and save his own skin, even if he did sympathize with her it might be a kindness to the both of them.

The room stood still. Takira's glowing purple eyes seemed to be scanning every frozen face, but Enialis did not know what the girl might be looking for.

Aside perhaps from a suitable change of clothing.

Takira finally said, "I will have no further loss to this House. The mercenaries will stand down and leave quietly. Their task is completed. The House Guard will similarly stand down, they will serve their Matron Mother, whoever she happens to be."

"You are a fool!" Qillathe hissed, "You cannot be the Matron Mother! You are a child, a commoner at that. You have not even been to the academy!"

Takira scoffed, "And I will not be to the academy. I am a weapon, am I not? Why dull my edge with prayers to a goddess I despise? Do you lack intelligence, Qillathe? No, I am certain you are quite clever. So imagine, if you will, why Lolth has permitted me to live."

Qillathe shook her head, "I genuinely cannot."

"Precisely." Takira smirked. "This family is amusing, your plots entertaining but _I _see beyond these walls. I have no love for the Spider Queen but then neither do most males. Why then do I live? Does it please her? Does she recognize how many of her children would fall in any attempt to undo me? On the other hand, do I simply fail to matter to her? There is no sense in asking 'why' Lolth is or 'why' Lolth does. Lolth _is_, and that is her reason for everything. I would have thought you, a High Priestess would understand."

"I know more of our goddess than you ever will." Qillathe answered. Her gaze was icy cold, and she showed almost no outward signs of fear. However, Enialis knew Qillathe's eyes were the only thing that would ever betray her true fear.

Her eyes were hardly full of terror, but there was a hint of fear deep within them. Almost as if her eyes were silken drapes, the shadowy specter of fear was visible, but barely.

As it had been when he had had his opportunity to end her life. Her fear then had so shocked him at the time that he had chosen to spare her, but he wondered if Takira would make the same mistake.

_If she kills Sivar and Qillathe she would be Talia's only daughter. She would become Matron in time, and having already beaten down Talia the old crone would not again presume to control her. _Enialis reasoned. Could this be Takira's plan? _The House would lack the power and prestige of having multiple High Priestesses. Most will easily guess how the youngest daughter came to be the only daughter, but that will not stop the attacks._

The adolescent girl smiled and wrapped her arms around herself as if against the cold. She whispered so that he barely heard her, "I despise Lolth, but I respect her. I have come to love the chaos of her world. I know that it was the actions of cowardly individuals hiding behind the banner of Lolth that I hate. Those who use her to justify their own ends that have robbed me of those things that I hold precious. My mother, my House, the House of my father . . . all destroyed by Baenre."

"You may desire to move against the first House," Qillathe snarled, "but you will find no progress until you are a High Priestess! Without that rank you cannot _be _a Matron Mother!"

"Ah but as the orphan with noble blood flowing through her veins and the survivor of a decimated House can I not be _adopted _into Baenre? Can the Spider Queen's most favored bitch not be persuaded to hold close a viper to her breast?"

Enialis' eyes widened and he broke his silence. "You would condemn this entire House and all of its members and servants alike to death for your own revenge?"

"I am not incapable of it, and I want that to be very clear." Takira said coldly, and with her back turned on him Enialis very nearly moved to strike her down before her madness went any further.

However, Ascord's eyes were on him, which meant Takira's were as well.

Takira explained as she walked over to Qillathe. "It is true, I am incapable of becoming Matron, but I do not require the title to reach my ends. This little coup is an adequate excuse . . . a daughter rises against her mother and the entire family perishes in the fighting . . . except the youngest daughter. I can kill you all, I do not _need _you."

Qillathe whispered, "Then what do you propose?"

"Strive for my ends and I will strive for yours. Cross me and I will end you." Takira said.

"If all you desired was payment for-" Qillathe began but Takira raised a hand and shushed her.

To Enialis' amusement, his sister fell silent mid-sentence.

Takira smiled in mock-gratitude and said, "My dear, my dear, this is not payment. This is partnership. House G'kar has what? A few hundred soldiers, empty coffers because you had to have an expensive little rebellion. I do hope you haggled a bit. But I am interdicting to save this House before there is nothing left for me to use in my revenge."

Enialis kept his eye on everyone in the room. No one moved except Takira, and she seemed to be keeping her eyes on Talia even as she spoke to Qillathe. Talia for her part sat in her throne looking tired and weary with only Sivar daring to be near her.

"Harbor no illusions, sister, you will give me my desires and I will see yours attended to. I will not go to the academy; the road of a priestess is not for me. I will not waste my time or my focus on it. Instead, I will focus entirely on raising G'kar's status until we have the power and the position to challenge Baenre. When that day comes, I will end the old Matron and her entire clan. Every daughter and son, be they of blood or of adoption, not a single Drow with the Baenre name will linger in this city when I am through. Within one century G'kar will be the First House."

"Then call off your hound." Qillathe suggested, but the young fighter's blade did not so much as quiver.

"No." Takira said softly. "I have not decided whether or not to let you live. You see Sivar can service my ends just as well . . . and as difficult as it might be to believe given your current state she is by far the dumber of the two of you."

Takira straightened up and stalked over to Sivar, who had risen to her knees and was bowing before the youth, almost as if she meant to prove her own stupidity.

Takira moved a gentle hand across Sivar's scalp and said, "Then of course there is Matron Talia. Who do you think should die today, Matron Talia? After all, you sought to sacrifice _someone_. Speak true now, you have nothing left to lose . . . who did you hope to see sent to Lolth's embrace tonight?"

Enialis found his eyes on his mother, the Matron of the household.

He waited to see what she would say. Unlike Qillathe, she had remained quiet all this time.

Finally Talia did speak, her red eyes focused on the girl she had taken in at risk to herself and her family, the girl who now stood poised to steal everything from her.

"My own." Talia said with an almost primal snarl.

Takira smiled, "You are old, but not ancient. So why would you seek an end?"

Talia laughed mirthlessly, "Why do you not tell me, girl? Let me see how much you have guessed. You may think yourself powerful but you mock Lolth herself, and I have laid eyes on _her _power. If you think you can overcome the Spider Queen herself you will have to show me more, show me that you _deserve _what you are about to take from me."

Takira smiled, and for the first time Enialis actually thought her face looked unattractive.

It looked cruel, sinister, and malicious.

He almost laughed when he realized it looked like that of a typical female.

Takira spoke with confidence and announced to the entire chapel as if delivering a sermon. "Your eldest daughter is a simpleton and your younger a weakling, you know they cannot now nor likely ever rule your precious household. However, you are possessed of too much maternal will to do away with them, especially when their status brings you personal power.

"But you are a sentimental mother. That is why your prodigal son stands here today though you knew he survived when he brought me to you. It is why your youngest son was not given to Lolth that very night when all deniability fled.

"It is why you put in place the tools for Qillathe the simpleton to seize her destiny. You had hoped she would outdo you and show you a quality you had hitherto only hoped for. Ever the loving mother you put her younger brother and sister out of harm's way so that they might live to serve her, you had your eldest son and advisor whisper in her ear so that she would do as you wished."

"But mother!" Sivar burst out, "Why let Qillathe succeed you? Give my but a bit more time and I will be a worthy successor-"

"She has no time." Takira said softly. "As I learned long ago . . . Lolth does not favor a caring mother. You told me, my Matron, that Lolth had been displeased for some time, but with whom? Surely not Enialis, he is male. Lolth cares nothing for males, and even if she did he took his freedom at the edge of a sword and left this House in chaos with the act; he would be _loved _by Lolth."

_A comforting thought. _Enialis mused. However, he doubted that it was true.

"You needed to act quickly," Takira continued, and turned back to Qillathe and Sivar, "She needed to end herself so that her progeny would survive and be ruthless enough that Lolth would always show them favor. She discounted however, how slow and uncertain Qillathe would be, or that she might indeed be far more thorough than presumed. So thorough in fact that she would see this as an opportunity to eliminate all her rivals; including you, Sivar."

Takira smiled at Matron Talia, "Qillathe is indeed ruthless enough to succeed you, but she is not brave enough, not smart enough. Given a few decades at the helm either of your daughters might become a worthy successor after all . . . but that would be decades of decline. Not so with myself to advise them of course, and advise them I will. You have nothing to fear, Matron Mother. Your bloodline will persist, I promise it."

Takira turned her back on Talia who laughed cruelly.

"You think yourself all powerful? You cannot stand to lose a single friend, girl! I have _killed _many of my own in my rise to power and many more to hold my place!" Talia rose to her feet, "You are still a child, a simpering selfish spoiled child! Now you've had your fun, and Qillathe has failed in her insurrection, it is time for all of my daughters to behave themselves and for this house to be set to right!"

Talia stood up and Enialis had to admit his mother somehow went from looking tired and frail to strong and intimidating within the split of a second.

Enialis found himself falling to his knees before a High Priestess of Lolth in her full fury, and to his amazement, even Takira seemed to show signs of uncertainty.

_It is too late now, you young fool. _He thought with some measure of remorse.

She really had been such a promising weapon.

* * *

Takira could feel the power emanating from Matron Talia, and it gave her pause.

She knew everything had gone out of control, but she had been so angry.

Her intention had been to support Matron Talia, the monster she knew over Qillathe, the monster she barely knew.

Everything would have gone according to plan and Takira would have been one step closer to succeeding as Matron of the house on her own terms had Talia not ruined it all.

To tell her that Rilian was lost, perhaps in the most permanent of ways, and then to order her sent to Arach-Tinilith . . . it was too much all at once. She could not cope, could not allow it . . . strategy had dictated supporting Talia but now circumstance saw her beside Qillathe.

Her hands were starting to shake now, she tried to stare Talia down and found herself looking away in a mixture of fear and surprise.

She feared nothing . . . she had lost everything that mattered to her . . . so why was she afraid now?

However, she was_ most definitely _afraid.

Her power was nearly exhausted and the Matron was not broken or bowed. Her back was to the wall, she had overreached in a moment of pure fury and now she would pay the price for it.

Talia held her serpent whip, its viper heads writhing furiously as if her hand was the only thing keeping them form striking out on their own against every living creature in the room.

Her tone was commanding, but she did not shout. She spoke quietly so that others were forced to listen carefully and Takira did listen when the Matron said, "Tak'Hera is correct. I had staged this all so that Qillathe could prove her worthiness . . . and she has failed. However, the young fool is wrong in guessing that I am in any way a soft mother. Sivar and Rilian were sent away because they were both of value to this House, and I knew Qillathe would be vindictive enough to strike them down to steel her own resolve.

"But I had thought that in removing them I would spare both a resource of this House and hasten Qillathe. Unfortunately I was wrong and it is _fortunate _that a mere male was our only loss, but luckily my worthy son has returned and his replacement is no longer needed."

Takira bristled at the statement, but she also sensed something from Ascord.

What was it? Was it a doubt?

Whatever it was, it was enough for Takira to forget her desperate situation for a moment. Was Rilian alive? Had Ascord left him . . . alive?

"Qillathe," Matron Talia snapped, breaking Takira's chain of thought and returning her to her predicament, "you will be sacrificed to Lolth for your failure, and Sivar, your studies will intensify. If you cannot attain the rank of High Priestess within the decade you will follow her."

"No!" Qillathe roared as a pair of guards moved to take her. "You cannot do this!"

"You!" Talia roared, stabbing a finger at Takira and shattering her own calm visage, "you have proven yourself a greater asset than I could have ever imagined . . . but you are too volatile to risk in the academy. I will never make a proper daughter out of you. You are brilliant, but you are lowborn filth as well. So be it. You are as you put it, a weapon.

"You have no use or function outside of serving me in that capacity." Matron Talia said in disgust. "I will not dress a goblin in fine clothes and call it my daughter. You will learn to love Lolth, and when you can accomplish such an easy task I will let you even _begin _to dream of loftier ones. Until then your every dream, your _only _dream is of furthering _my _House, and _my _glory."

Takira tensed and swallowed a lump in her throat. The Matron took a menacing step towards her, her viper whip seeming to struggle to reach Takira who was just barely out of the reach of those dangerous heads.

In a deadly, quiet voice Matron Talia whispered, "Am I understood?"

Takira had meant to shake her head in defiance but found herself dumbly nodding instead.

_I have gone too far. She offers me a path to survival; I must take it and live! _Takira told herself, _Live now and my time will come later. This was Qillathe's chance and she squandered it, next will be _my _opportunity._

However, an unexpected voice cut into her thoughts.

"I can offer more!" Qillathe roared, "I will offer more!"

"Speak then. Amuse me while you are made ready for Lolth." Talia sneered.

"Tak'Hera!" Qillathe shouted, "You and I together, sister! We are committed!"

"You are defeated!" Talia laughed.

"I am held fast but I am not bowed! Do not bow, Tak'Hera! I can offer you more than she can! You will be my daughter; you will keep your noble title under my rule! We will tell others that I had you in my youth, that I gave you up to be raised by my barren mother for the sake of House G'kar, to add just one more High Priestess to the ranks!"

"She still talks of her rule." Talia laughed and gently used her still hissing serpent whip to force Takira to look up at her and Takira found her eyes locked again with the terrible gaze of Matron Talia, a being she had thoroughly underestimated.

_Or have I? _She wondered for a moment.

"Under my rule you would be the only noble, Tak'Hera!" Qillathe said, beginning to sound desperate, "Don't you understand what that means? Under Talia Rilian is the third born son, under me he is a commoner!"

"Rilian is dead!" Talia snapped.

"Ascord!" Qillathe screeched, "Did you kill my brother?"

"No . . ." Ascord admitted.


	21. Matron

**Chapter Ten**

**Part II**

"No . . ." Ascord admitted.

That was all it took.

Qillathe was right: they were committed. For better or worse, Takira had chosen her side.

The serpent heads must have sensed the danger because they became aggressive again, but it was too late. Takira rose to her feet and shouted at the top of her lungs.

The vocalization itself did nothing, but the strenuous act that had forced it from her lips sent a High Priestess of Lolth flying across the chapel.

Everyone stared in confusion and perhaps even terror as Tak'Hera G'kar took Matron Talia's whip in her hands and, struggling to confuse and subdue the minds of the viper heads wielded it as if she were herself a High Priestess.

"Praise Lolth." She sneered, wielding the whip as she advanced on Talia.

"Kill her!" Talia ordered, "Kill them both!"

But Ascord had already moved at Takira's beckon and had killed one of the two female guards holding Qillathe. The beleaguered High Priestess had taken the other herself; once she had had a free hand her own serpent headed whip had wrapped itself around the neck and chest of the second guard and sank five sets of deadly teeth into the female's flesh.

The rebellion was on again in earnest, at least inside the chapel. Sivar threw herself at Takira and the younger female was knocked off her feet, but she could do nothing against the crazed Sivar's attack, too much of her focus was on Matron Talia who fought against her with more force than she could safely contain.

The Matron fought against her hold and Takira could feel the bristle of power that must be Lolth defending this favored daughter.

The feeling only made Takira fight harder; ignoring the blows Sivar dealt her.

The serpent headed whip had been dropped when Sivar jumped her, and now Takira felt the Lolth-blessed weapon sink its fangs into her hand, and she heard Sivar scream as well.

Without Lolth's favor, the lower priestess was as much an enemy to the rogue whip as the heretic.

But the pain of the bite caused Takira to waver and she turned her gaze to Sivar in time to see serpent fangs sink into the side of her face and yank her backwards.

Not from Matron Talia's whip, but from Qillathe's.

Qillathe yanked her younger sister from Takira and shoved her backwards onto Ascord's sword.

A sword Takira now recognized, and she made a mental note to have a little talk with Ascord if and when they survived this.

But for now, she rolled to her feet as Qillathe scooped up the rogue whip and with a whip in each hand advanced on her mother.

Matron Talia was not defeated, she stretched for her right hand and bolts of black energy shot from her to Qillathe, but the younger Priestess nimbly dodged out of the way and struck out with Talia's own whip.

The Matron mother dodged out of the way of the swipe only to stumble over her own throne.

Qillathe did not hesitate; she did not let her mother rise to her feet.

Takira found herself turning away from the sight as Qillathe, laughing like a lunatic, beat her mother to death with her own whip.

There was quiet in the room, the last survivors of the chapel's blood bath looked upon their new Matron in awed silence.

Qillathe turned to face them all and threw her mother's whip aside.

She fell into the stone throne of the G'kar household, her mother's battered body at her feet.

Qillathe looked down on them all, the new Matron of House G'kar.

Takira looked at the still and brutalized form of Matron Talia and found that she felt just the slightest tremor of remorse.

Because in that moment that she had locked eyes with the Matron the second time she had seen . . . that Talia truly did want survival and success for her children.

Why order Qillathe sacrificed? Takira could only guess; perhaps as a warning to Sivar, or perhaps to force Qillathe to play whatever cards she might have hidden up her sleeves.

Whatever the case it was over now.

"All hail Matron Mother Qillathe!" Weapons Master K'ral said, no doubt hoping no one would remember which side of the conflict he had been on.

Almost as one the survivors shouted, "Hail Qillathe, praise Lolth!"

Even Takira did not dare test her luck against the Spider Queen any further that day.

Qillathe was quiet for a long time, before finally saying, "K'ral, set my soldiers to work securing this compound and order the slaves to clean up this mess. Enialis, find me that blasted mercenary Gauban. I want to know what happened on the surface that left both my siblings alive . . . you, who are you?" Qillathe demanded of the intimidating female warrior that had followed Ascord into the chapel.

"I am Phelos." She answered, sounding untroubled by the sudden regime change she had just witnessed.

Or by the fact that she was indeed a witness . . .

But Qillathe smiled favorably at her and said, "You supported me unbidden. I will not forget that. Assist K'ral and watch him for signs of betrayal."

The Matron Mother's eyes met with Takira's and Takira felt nothing. Her power was exhausted, and Qillathe enjoyed Lolth's full favor. Every barrier that could stand between her mind and Takira's was there.

Would she order her killed now? Would she keep her word?

"Are you still alive, Nagru? Very well then, if you wish to remain so you will bring my daughter some clean robes. Hers seem to have been torn. Ascord, you are her guardian and champion. Do not thank me. You failed in the task I set to you after all, but it seems that was for the best. Now I believe she has some questions for you. Answer her honestly, or find yourself nearly female."

Takira managed a smile, but felt more drained than she had ever felt before.

But she could not show weakness now. Somehow, she knew she needed to seem strong now or Qillathe would kill her.

She was so weary.

But she needed to seem as if she had barely broken a sweat in this fight. "Bring him to my chambers . . ." She told Enialis, and then she bowed slightly to Matron Qillathe.

She needed to remain in the Matron's presence until she was dismissed, but just keeping her eyes open was torture. Standing as if unperturbed by the fighting was pure hell.

Luckily, Qillathe nodded to her and said, "Interrogate him now. I have no further use for you here, and I am certainly as interested as you are in knowing why the fighter returned without completing his mission."

Takira bowed again and retreated quickly from the Matron's presence. Ascord followed her closely, though she was no longer using her abilities to force him to do so.

As the chapel doors shut behind her Takira wavered in her step and Ascord rushed over and held her up.

She did not shove him away, she would rather be held than fall over, but she did turn to him and say, "Do not think me a friend, Ascord. You will tell me what transpired on the surface."

"I did only what I was ordered to do." Ascord told her. He then hastily added, "And not even that, I left him alive. I could not bring myself to deliver the blow."

Takira could not tell for certain whether Ascord was telling the truth or not, but she strongly doubted it.

He was telling her what he thought she wanted to hear; telling her what he thought would keep himself alive longer.

So she told him, "As long as you obey me you will be kept alive. The first task I am setting to you is to tell me the entire truth about Rilian."

"Should the first task not be to get you to your chambers safely?" Ascord asked.

Now Takira did shove him away. She said, "I possess legs of my own. Walk and talk, I do not care if anyone overhears us. Tell me what happened, and where it happened."

* * *

Qillathe could feel the power of authority running through her entire frame.

She could barely move from the throne of G'kar . . . _her _house now.

But as her minions scurried to carry out her orders, Borrakul did lean close.

"It is most fortuitous that Rilian is still alive."

"Is he?" Qillathe cocked her head to the side quizzically, "I was not aware."

Borrakul looked surprised, "But then why did you-"

"I was desperate. The girl is a weapon, she needed wielding, directing. Ascord was wielding my brother's blade. I assumed he won it in the usual way. But I also assumed he would tell Tak'Hera what needed to be said. He had thrown in with me after all and if I died, he would have too. Sending him with Tak'Hera is a calculated risk to buy me more time to consider what to do about her. If I am not mistaken the girl could barely stand, much less interrogate anyone and I've sent Enialis away so that she is absolutely alone."

"But she believed him." Borrakul said.

"Ascord? She was desperate for hope." Qillathe shrugged.

"But she believed him." Her brother repeated. "Matron, if she believed him . . . it means he told the truth. He did not kill our brother, as you ordered him to."

Qillathe considered that. "Perhaps. And if that is the case then there might yet be a chance to control the girl."

"How so?" Borrakul asked.

Qillathe smiled, "We mount a rescue operation. Even if Rilian was spared Ascord's blade there is no way he survived the surface world this long. He was an under-performer to begin with, but alone in the fiery lands of the surface? He would be dead."

"Then why the rescue operation?" Borrakul asked.

"Because I will seem to Tak'Hera to be a concerned and valuable ally willing to expend any resource to see her content. I will earn her loyalty by letting her venture to the surface and see the body herself. Then I will win still more by handing her the sacrificial dagger to end Ascord's life in payment for his taking of Rilian's. Moreover while she is gone I will have ample time to sort things out and put _my _House in order so that when my weapon returns she will be ready to see us rise in rank right away."

"Right away?" Borrakul asked.

"Of course. Mother said I was too cautious, delayed too much . . . well if that is my chief weakness Lolth will be pleased to see it done away with. Set your people to task, brother, and find me a target our reformed House G'kar can conquer with our weapon's help."

Borrakul nodded and turned to leave, but Qillathe called after him.

"But first . . ." She called, seeing that the two of them were alone in the chapel.

There were no prying ears now . . . and she had to know.

"Was the girl right? Did she speak truly?" Qillathe asked.

"In regards to what?" Borrakul asked.

"Did our mother assign you to help push me towards insurrection? Did she really _want _all of this?"

Borrakul gave her a calculating look and she sensed a lie incoming.

But she could feel the truth like a splash of cold water when he said, "How better to be sure of the survival of all of her progeny? Send the youngsters away, and make your most hated sibling a valued confidant and adviser. Did you not plan to murder me the moment you became Matron, Qillathe?"

Qillathe smiled, "And now the thought is so far removed that I recall it only because you have mentioned it. Still . . ." Qillathe shook her head slowly and looked at the place where Sivar had fallen, though her body had already been dragged away by attendants.

"The old crone did not have it all her own way." Qillathe said fondly. "She may have intentionally left the opening . . . but I proved even more than she expected." She smiled sinisterly at Borrakul and said, "As for you, brother . . . I suggest you continue to act as a loyal and valued adviser. Because the moment you displease me . . ."

Borrakul bowed to her and said, "Trust me, Matron. I have no wish to join our mother and sister. Or our dear baby brother."

Qillathe nodded and relaxed in her stone chair.

But Borrakul did ask one thing before leaving.

"What will you do if Rilian _is _alive?"

Qillathe laughed softly and said, "Make him the blasted Weapons Master. If he has survived the surface long enough to be rescued he must have more skill than K'ral, Ascord and Enialis all combined. Besides, as long as he has his life I have leverage with the girl. She made her decision to fight for me when I gave her Rilian, and if he is alive she will continue to fight for me or I will simply rescind my gift."

Borrakul left her and Qillathe sat alone in the G'kar chapel.

It was empty. Empty of slaves, empty of subjects, empty of corpses.

And it was hers.

It and the compound, the grounds, all of House G'kar.

It was all hers now.


End file.
